


Star-Struck and Separated

by Robin_Knight



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Culture, Asphyxiation, Canon-Typical Violence, Dominance and Submission, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Relationships, F/M, Flashbacks, Hostage Situations, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Resistance, Sadism, Slow Burn, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-11-18
Packaged: 2018-08-18 16:58:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 40,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8169229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robin_Knight/pseuds/Robin_Knight
Summary: Crash-landed and stranded, Shiro must reconnect with the Paladins. To stand any chance at defeating Zarkon, the Paladins must reform Voltron, but things are more difficult than they appear. The Black Lion and Shiro have lost their bond, while the Resistance have plans to defeat the evil empire, and - amidst Shiro's troubles - Sendak rears his head and captures the eldest Paladin. There is just one thing in his way: Sendak.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CAPSING](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CAPSING/gifts).



Shiro struggled to stand.

The planet was unlike any in his memory; there was nothing but rocks as far as the eye could see, as if the landscape were sculpted from black and grey mineral, and what little streams and rivers there were seemed etched into the stone. He managed to quench his thirst with relative speed, as he realised the trees and shrubbery – which grew forth from the rocks – were located solely by the water sources. Shiro followed them as far as he dared.

The Black Lion was hidden well enough beneath the cliff-face, but the whole universe was searching for it – along with his team – and there was no knowing just how far the wormhole had sent him from Zarkon. He suppressed a shudder and drew in a deep breath. No, it would not do to think about those dangers when his priority needed to be survival, and there was no knowing whether the Black Lion would stay loyal to him, not after it found its original Paladin. Shiro needed to find the others. He needed to find shelter.

He walked for nearly an hour.

There was an apparent city ahead, built into the rock with a series of caves and strange outcropped buildings, and the local race milled about with aliens of all species, so that – even from this distance – he could see what looked like Galra walking alongside what should have been known enemies. It looked peaceful. He could hear the children laugh and scream in play, while adults bickered and haggled and gossiped, and he let his feet bring him closer, as exhaustion and frustration began to sink into his body. Everything ached.

Shiro felt blisters upon his feet. There was blood in his mouth, which provided the only moisture since the last river found, and his body was bruised all over, so that he regretted every movement of his joints. He needed to stay strong; somewhere – out there – his team needed him, so he would march on and find help. Shiro tripped over one of the rocks, despite how they gradually smoothed out and became a steady slope to the nearby city.

“Well, look what the lion dragged in,” said a voice.

Shiro felt his heart stop . . .

. . . _‘You put up an entertaining fight.’_

_Shiro barked out an uncharacteristic laugh. It felt sore upon his throat, which was hoarse from cries and screams, and – as he laughed – he felt droplets of blood fall upon his lips and chin, until he was forced to try and raise his arm to blot them away. The arm wouldn’t move. There was a searing pain from the stump; it burned like white-hot fire, until a sweat broke over his body and he nearly passed out, and the laughed became almost deranged._

_‘You want an entertaining fight?’ Shiro asked with a gasp. ‘Fight me. I’ll take you on, Sendak. I’m not afraid of you; you’re a bully and a monster, fit for nothing except carrying out the commands of bullies and monsters in turn. I’d rather die than serve you.’_

_‘Funny, you think that_ I’m _the monster.’_

_The room was dark, yet nothing like his cell, and he could smell the sterile soaps and disinfectants in the air, each as harsh as the next, while the bed underneath him was nothing more than a cold slab of metal. He felt the holes around the edges, likely there to drain the blood, and his heart raced with a sickening speed, until he grew woozy and dizzy and the vision of Sendak doubled and blurred. There was the sight of more metal in the distance, as a Druid touched the strange shape and the limb-like object gave a clench of a hand._

_‘You – you wouldn’t dare,’ said Shiro. ‘I’m not – I’m not like you!’_

_‘No, but you will be. We will have this in common. Won’t that be fun?’_

_Shiro soon began to scream as the procedure began; laughter echoed about the room from the Galra commander, while soothing words were uttered by a female voice, and soon he passed out from the pain, with only the memories of that face upon him. The last words he heard were ‘reward’, ‘gift’, and ‘weapon’ . . ._

_. . ._ Sendak was the last person he expected to see.

He stood not far behind Shiro, but sans his cybernetic arm. The purple fur looked well groomed and smooth, which indicated he likely had good shelter and clean water, while his Galra uniform had been replaced with a similarly patterned one-piece suit. That familiar yellow eye glared at him with something close to amusement, so that it crinkled at the corners and matched the pull of his lips, and the arm – loose by his right side – clenched and unclenched its fist as if in warning. Shiro wondered how he survived. Why this planet?

Shiro pulled himself into a kneeling position; he knew he couldn’t stand in time to avoid any blows or deliver any in turn, but he could sweep out his leg to take Sendak down, perhaps even pounce or dive should the need arise. He felt his heart race, while the air grew cold. The two suns in the sky seemed to set on either side of the horizon, leaving long shadows across the land and creating strange patterns on Sendak’s expression. It was now or never.

Sendak stood over him, ready to strike.

Shiro pounced.

* * *

“Is everyone okay?”

Allura held tight upon her shoulder. There was a deep ache in the joint, but it seemed to suffer no dislocation and was merely severely bruised. A quick pat down of her attire detected a few rips and stains, which were mostly located by cuts of various depths, but ultimately she felt fine within herself and her environment. It was easy enough to breathe, while damage to the castle – on a superficial glance – appeared minimal, and the atmosphere and gravity were safe enough for her to walk upon the surface without any concern for her life.

The planet looked familiar; it was mostly barren, but many holes could be seen leading into underground mines, and there were a few rocky protrusions about the landscape that caught the setting sun so perfectly that the thousands of crystals glittered about her. It was clear that Balmera began to flourish outside of Galra control, and she felt a huge sense of relief that at least one mission had proved a success. Allura looked around for her companions.

There were just three lions in sight, which caused a temporary panic to sink through her body, but she tried to think about what Coran or Shiro would advise, and she knew – just like those around her knew – the priority needed to be those that she could help. The Paladins’ Code was to help all living creatures, as such she would do what she must and then seek out those of their flock that were lost. It was difficult to still her beating heart, as her mouth ran dry and her sense of nervousness threatened to overtake her reason.

“Everyone, I need you to answer right now,” commanded Allura. “I beg you.”

Allura heard a groan from over by the green lion. It was impossible to hold back the sigh of relief, as her hand came to her chest and her body sagged, and – with wide blue eyes – she watched on as Pidge struggled to her feet and scratched awkwardly at her head. Those glasses were askew, while her hair was mussed, and there was a flush to her cheeks from the adrenaline and fear. Allura ran over to her, as she helped her to stand.

“I – I’m fine, Princess,” said Pidge.

“I can see that, but it would make me feel better should you let me help you.” Allura gave a warm smile, as her arm wrapped itself around her companion. “I can see only three of the lions, which means Shiro and Lance must have been sent elsewhere. I worry.”

“If their communicators still work, we _should_ be able to trace them.”

 _"Yo, trace who?"_ Hunk's voice called. "Who’s missing?"

The two women looked across to Hunk and Keith; the latter bore a deep gash in his leg, which was wrapped tight with a bandage that looked to be from one of the med-kits, and Hunk supported his weight much as Allura did with Pidge. The Red Paladin was soon dropped onto an outcropping of rock, where he gave a groan and carefully elevated his leg onto a rock just to the side of him, so that – were they cushioned for comfort – it almost looked like an enjoyable place to sit and watch the world.

There was a sheen of sweat on Hunk’s brown skin, as he fell onto his knees and stared up at the sky with a wide and bright smile. He cocked his head to the side, closed his eyes, and began to laugh with such a childlike innocence that Allura smiled in turn, and soon he threw himself on the ground and appeared to hug the earth. Large hands clenched at dirt and rock, until the laughter turned into an incoherent and gentle kind of mumbling.

“Ah, solid ground! I could kiss it!”

“Well,” said Pidge, “I know it’s great to be back –”

“You know what? I don’t care! I’m going to kiss it.” Hunk began to kiss the earth, with loud smacking and melodramatic noises. “So – so – so happy to be back! Ew, yuck, I think something was touching this before me. It’s wet. Why is it wet?”

Allura gave a laugh behind her hand, as Hunk eventually stood up and started to swat at his tongue, and Pidge – with a roll of her eyes – sat down and began to pull out the portable computing system to begin the attempt to trace their comrades. It caused Allura to feel a stab of guilt, as she realised that Coran was missing alongside Lance and Shiro, and to feel even an iota of humour felt disrespectful of their predicament. Allura raised a hand to her breast and walked over to Keith and Hunk, whereby she sat next to Keith and looked to his leg.

“So – er – where are Coran, Shiro and Lance?” Hunk asked.

“We think they went through a different wormhole,” explained Allura. “Pidge is working on tracking their locations now, but it may take some time and will require a lot of energy. I think we all need to take some time to recover and formulate a plan, but we’re lucky enough to land on a planet free from Galra rule, which is something to which we ought to be thankful.”

“Hmm, well, not that I want you to think I’m slacking off or anything, as I’m totally not, but maybe I should go speak to Shay?” Hunk leaned back with finger upon his lips. “I’m not sure how much her people have in way of technology, but maybe they know something.”

“It’s a big planet,” said Pidge. “It could be they just landed elsewhere.”

“Right? I’m going to go check it out. I’ll be right back.”

Hunk gave a mock salute and ran off towards the mines; he moved with great speed, enough that Allura was sure his urgency stemmed from a need to help his team-mates, and Pidge – meanwhile – looked lost in her task, as she pulled up multiple screens and images, desperate to find something that could lead them to the others. The air felt cold, as night drew near and the sun began its descent, and Allura let out an exhale of breath and drew her limbs close.

The gash on Keith’s leg looked clean beneath the bandage, while the bleeding had long stopped, and Allura forced a smile to reassure the younger man. He appeared as stoic as ever, as his light eyes gazed out over the distance, but there was no forgetting the screams of rage and the almost primal way he fought just moments previous against Zarkon, and Allura wondered what triggered his temper and brought him from serenity into brutality at a seeming drop of a hat. Allura sat beside him and let the silence wash over them.

It was almost nice to listen simply to his deep breaths. He provided a calming influence over her, while she was reminded of their heart-to-hearts in the past, and – although she respected all those in her charge equally – she would admit to herself that she held him closest in her heart. The sounds of Pidge clicking upon keys and screens echoed about the air, while a soft breeze blew across the planet, and soon they would need to rest. Allura said:

“We need a plan, if we are to move forward.”

“What’s the point?” Keith asked. “We lost, Princess.”

“We only lost the battle, not the war.” Allura pointed a finger as if to the sky. “Voltron may be our best chance at defeating Zarkon, but we can only do that once we bring forth the Paladins together once more. I know so much has been asked of you already, Keith, but I pray that you can trust me when I say: we can win this war. I know what it is like to lose your family, your homeland, to have such responsibility thrust upon you –”

“That’s just it! I never _had_ a family, Princess. I never had a father to play catch, a mother to tuck me in, and finally I thought maybe – just maybe – I had a family with everyone . . . Pidge wanted to leave, Hunk wanted to leave, and Lance plain out hates me. What kind of family just abandons its members on a whim? Why shouldn’t I want to run, too?”

“Well, they say bravery isn’t the absence of fear, but the ability to face one’s fears.” There was a huff of breath from Keith, even as Allura placed a hand upon his shoulder. “Pidge and Hunk returned to us; they were there for us and are here for us now. We are family.”

“And what about Shiro? I failed him and now he’s -!”

Allura tightened her grip upon his shoulder. It was easy to forget the pain that Keith must have endured as an orphan, while sometimes she questioned whether it was more painful to have never had something compared to losing something, and yet all she knew was that pain was pain and that Keith suffered. There was a chill in the air, as the setting sun cast long shadows about them, and it emphasised the lines on Keith’s face and made his skin look all the darker, until she felt a deep stab within her breast with sympathy.

“You fought well, perhaps even saving us all,” said Allura.

“I fought like a Galra! That’s not a good thing, Princess!” Keith slammed a fist down upon the rock beneath him, which caused her to wince at the knowledge the Balmera suffered at the blow. “What if Shiro does come back? How can we form Voltron to defeat Zarkon, when the black lion will just choose Zarkon over Shiro every time?”

“We will think of something, Keith. I know we will. Our first priority needs to be finding Shiro, Coran, and Lance. Once we find them, we will know that the lions are safe from Zarkon’s control, and we will be able to solve such problems together . . . as a team.”

There was a grunt from Keith, who looked so close to breaking point. It was easy to read him as temperamental and with great anger, but Allura saw in him the passion and absolute loyalty, which – when tempered and controlled – could make him a leader to rival Shiro. Allura saw the way he tried to focus: eyes stared blankly ahead, while hands clenched at his sides, and his emotions switched with a hair-trigger temper. It was possible that he was over-stimulated, overwhelmed and unable to process so many emotions. She gave a smile.

“Princess?” Keith said.

Allura felt his muscles relax underneath her hand, as she stroked lightly with her thumb across the white material of his suit, and – as he drew in a deep breath, his chest expanding under the action – she knew that there was likely much conflict from within him, understandable given their circumstance. The breeze rubbed against his brown hair, enough to give it a sense of life and movement, and it was difficult not to hold back a smile as she leaned a little closer to him.

“Thank you,” he continued. “I appreciate your kindness.”

“Any time. I simply hope the others are okay.”

Keith said nothing in his silence.


	2. Chapter 2

“Get down, Lance!”

Lance barely had time to look around. He felt a huge force at his abdomen; it knocked him to the ground, as he let out a huff of breath and felt winded by the blow, and – before he could even register what happened – he saw a spark of red hit the tree behind him. The laser from the gun burned a large hole straight through to the other side of the trunk, while the bark hissed and sizzled with large black marks all around it, and he could smell the ash in the air.

There was a pain on the back of his head, where he struck it hard upon the soil, but he mostly felt fine and only had a few bruises to show from their crash-landing. The remains of the ship and the somewhat scratched lion sat approximately a mile away, hidden in the deepest part of the jungle, and they had camouflaged them as best as they could with branches, mud, leaves, twigs, and even the odd animal remains. It should have been completely hidden from sight, but they knew they couldn’t linger. They needed to do a reconnaissance.

“I think _this_ must be the edge of their camp,” said Coran.

The older man sat up next to Lance. He acted so carefree that it was almost as if he hadn’t just tackled the young adult to the ground, and he simply sat cross-legged with eyes closed, as he twiddled the ends of his moustache in deep contemplation. The shock of orange hair was mussed from their crash, but somehow he still looked every bit a nobleman and commanded every ounce of respect, and he even sat with back straight and chin parallel to the ground. It was admirable, but somewhat frustrating when Lance felt like a steaming pile of excrement.

Lance sat up with a groan, as his back ached in protest. There was a row of waist-high bushes all along the perimeter of the enemy camp, with what looked like a twenty-foot drop into an open area and the various flat-roofed buildings, and – from their height and distance – they could just about make out a few soldiers on guard-duty from towards a small shack over to the side. They looked like snipers and currently aimed the barrels of their guns up the incline.

Everything below was totally void of greenery, with sand imported to line the roads in and out, and it made the jungles above feel like a whole other planet. The two men sat quietly for a long while, as they listened to the cacophony of birds and insects all chirping and roaring about them, and – every so often – they would also hear Galra soldiers shooting at odd points, along with the cries of wild animals. Lance felt his heart race, as he tried to analyse the situation, but there was no real way to know where the wormhole had taken them.

“Okay, so what do we do?” Lance asked.

“Well, from what I can gather, this area seems to be split into two sections.” Coran cocked his head up and gave a smile, as violet eyes opened. “It looks like the Galra carved this area for their own usage, setting up a wide perimeter into the jungle. There’s no evidence of them using any of the jungle area, but I’ve counted patrols passing through here once every hour, which gives us forty of your ‘minutes’ to get to a safe location.”

“Well, where are we supposed to go?” Lance narrowed his eyes and balanced on the backs of his heels. “We need a place to set up camp, at least until we can find the others and get the heck out of dodge, but if Galra soldiers are patrolling everywhere -!”

“Ah, well, I thought about that. If you remember, there was a chain-link fence not too far from where we crash-landed. I did a little bit of scouting, a little bit of thinking, and a _lot_ of dodging bullets, but – well – I’m _pretty_ sure that’s the ‘border’ between Galra territory and the territory assigned to the local population. I don’t think either would be willing to get too close to that fence, so our best bet is to camp next right there. The Galra will think we’re local on the local side, while the locals will think we’re Galra on the Galra side.”

Lance furrowed his brow, until realisation sunk into his mind. They would likely need to start a fire to cook their food, which meant smoke and a signal to their location, and so hugging the boundary fence probably would fool each side into thinking they were the other, and the only downside would be if one came to investigate. Lance looked back to the camp; the soldiers approach seemed to be ‘scare away intruders’, without any intent to search for them.

It meant that there wasn’t anything of worth in the base, else they would have searched out any intruders right away, and so – judging by the ships coming in and out on a regular basis – it was probably a transit hub. Lance craned his neck upward; there was a sharp ache to the muscles in his shoulders, while his eyes were blurred and unfocussed, but Coran was pretty advanced as a medic, so he simply made a mental note to get checked out later. It looked like the ships were definitely Galra, with some hovering to wait for a landing spot.

“Okay, so we camp out and work out our next move,” said Lance.

“Precisely,” replied Coran. “I suggest we set up camp some distance from the lion, that way – if we _do_ attract attention – we can avoid the lion falling into enemy hands. Of course, we could also use the lion for shelter and for sleep, as then we’d be in a position to simply flee at a moment’s notice, so there are pros and cons to each. What do you think?”

“I guess we set up camp away from the lion. I mean, my communicator seems to be pretty bust and we have no idea where we even landed . . . if we wait until nightfall, do you think you could work out an approximate location from the constellations?”

“Oh, that’d be a jolly good challenge, but – yes – I think I may be able.”

“Whew, at least that’s one good thing!”

Lance visibly sagged and dropped back onto his buttocks, as he crossed his legs and lent his cheek upon his hand. Every now and again there would be stray words from his team . . . _‘Sendak’, ‘Balmera’, ‘-need a plan’_ . . . there never seemed to be any full sentences and sometimes the speaker was so brief that he couldn’t even identify them. Still, his helmet was his one lifeline to his team, and a reassurance that they were still alive . . . somewhere.

There was a loud hum from Coran. It caught Lance’s attention, as he looked up and saw the pale man stand to his feet with a finger bent in a strange position and pressed to his lips, while his left hand came behind his back to press against the small indent. Lance would have been comforted by such a pose, particularly as he stood with legs apart in a way that screamed ‘confidence’, but – with Galra soldiers all around – he simply felt his heart begin to race and his mouth run dry. He barely had time to yank Coran back down.

The sound of many gun blasts deafened him; it hurt his ears, while the sight of various beams was nearly enough to cause him an epileptic fit, and – frankly – he felt far too nauseous to deal with that level of fear. There was a shower of splinters from the trees, which landed all over Lance and Coran, until finally there was a beautiful silence that spread even to the animals and birds and insects. Lance gave a sigh and dragged Coran through the shrubbery.

“What kind of moron just stands up like that?”

Coran gave a loud huff of breath, as he began to crawl alongside Lance. They eventually made it to a small footpath, out of sight of the incline and base, and stood to their feet, while Lance felt the rush of adrenaline and sparks of anger that shot through every nerve in his body. The idea of losing his only link to his team, as well as a most cherished friend, terrified him to his core and made him feel caught between crying and screaming, until he clenched his fists and leaned forward into Coran’s space. Coran didn’t even seem phased.

“Seriously, we came this far for you to die now?” Lance asked.

“Well, _sorry_ ,” said Coran, as he placed hands on his hips. “ _You_ try living six-hundred years with a universe worth of knowledge inside your head. You might just forget some day-to-day things, too! I was simply wondering whether we could steal a communicator from the base; maybe reprogram it to our advantage. Perhaps we better heal up first.”

Lance gave a groan, as he slumped his shoulders. He barely noticed the slap to his back, until Coran allowed his hand to rest there and rubbed a reassuring circle, much in a way that reminded him of their conversation the castle some time back. It wasn’t easy to open up to people, especially as the ‘joker’ and the ‘idiot’ of the group, but Coran always seemed to have a sixth sense for when he was genuinely hurting inside, and – most of all – he also understood what it was like to be so far away from home. Lance gave a smile.

He let Coran lead him down the footpath, as they began the slow trek back to their starting point. There were occasional comments from Coran along the way, about certain types of vegetation or indigenous species of animals, and it soon became clear that the meaningless chatter was as much to comfort himself as it was to work out their location. It was warm and humid on the planet, so much so that Lance began to sweat beneath his suit.

“Do you think the others are okay?” Lance asked.

Coran came to a stop near to the fence; the journey went quicker than Lance imagined, so that he collapsed from exhaustion against the trunk of a nearby tree, and – as he looked over to the older man – he saw him scratching his chin and looking at the other side. There was nothing but green fields and farmland on the other side, nothing at all like the jungle they stood within, and the sudden change in climate was startling and unusual.

“Coran? What about Allura or Shiro or Pidge?”

“Hmm? Oh, I’m sure they are fine.” Coran turned and beamed a bright smile. “Well, unless the wormhole took them to a planet without a decent supply of oxygen, or too much oxygen. You know people think there’s no such thing as too much oxygen, but you can do some _real_ damage to a living body up to – and including – death by –”

“Not helping, Coran! I don’t want to think about that!”

“Ah, well, the chances of that are – well – actually they’re pretty high, as most planets tend to have uninhabitable atmospheres, assuming you don’t get crushed under the pressure before you asphyxiate, of course, but -! Where was I? Oh yes, I’m sure they’re fine.”

Lance threw his head back, until it struck the bark and began to ache. He regretted the gesture, just as much as the long groan of frustration, but it was hard to be too angry when Coran came from a good place. The air felt cooler in these parts, despite being so close to the jungle, and a wave of fresh air struck him and took away droplets of the sweat and discomfort, so that he was able to give a groan of relief. He grabbed the hem of his suit and tried to waft some air inside, even as he watched Coran examine nearby plants.

The older man knelt beside a bush that looked more thorns than leaves, before he carefully reached inside – yelping a couple of times for small cuts – and pulled out two strange items that looked like they could possibly pass as fruits. They were round, approximately the size of a soccer ball each, and covered in what looked like the bulging and blue veins of an elderly person with very thin skin. It was enough to make him nauseous to look at them.

“Here we are,” chirped Coran. “These are most certainly edible.”

“Are you sure? I think this one is . . . moving.”

“No, no! They’re fine, I’m sure!”

A small worm poked its head at the surface of Lance’s fruit, but Coran claimed it was perfectly safe and extra ‘protein’, and – despite how Coran ate his without any concern – it was just beyond Lance’s ability to take even a single bite. He simply held it in his hands, a little worried by how warm it felt to the touch, as Coran sat beside him and whispered about how the best part was the stone inside the centre. There was a pretty bizarre scent from the fruit, too, like a mixture of honey and syrup and vodka. Lance frowned.

“Cheer up! We’ll soon be back with the others.”

“Not if we can’t communicate with them,” said Lance.

“You know a smile is much more attractive than a frown?” Coran gave an almost innocent wink, as Lance blushed and looked away with a sigh. “I guess now is not the time for humour, but – I promise – tomorrow we will gather some intelligence and get ourselves one of the Galra communicators. We’ll be back at the castle before you can say ‘quiznak’!”

The two of them sat in silence for a while, until Lance chanced a bite of the fruit. It was easy to expect the worst, but – surprisingly – it tasted just like the ice cream he would eat as a child by the seaside, so that it brought back a rush of memories and emotions. He made to suggest sharing some with Pidge and Hunk, before he realised that they were missing and there was no way to share anything until they were reunited. It would be difficult to survive so close to Galra troops, more so when they needed to infiltrate the base, and –

“Someone looks a little distracted,” said Coran.

Lance looked up at the sky, surprised to see stars despite the sun still being out, and they were so bright that they stood out like glitter on a plain page, so that he was left in wonder at how they would look come nightfall. A small part of him yearned to see Earth, but the chances of seeing Earth’s sun were so infinitesimally small that it felt cruel to even hope, and so he looked back down at the fruit in his hands and prayed for his companions instead.

“Say, why don’t I tell you about the constellations?” Coran asked. “Could be fun!”

“Huh, do you even recognise any of those stars? They look . . . weird.”

“Well, I’m sure I’ll be able to think of some stories regardless.”

Lance smiled and said: “Sounds good, Coran.”

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Sendak dodged the oncoming blow.

He moved with great speed and co-ordination, despite the rough terrain underfoot. It was incredible to watch, but frightening to experience, and Shiro – as he fell forward and struggled to maintain his balance – realised that he was at a severe disadvantage. The pain in his body was impossible to ignore; there was blood pooling in his boots, while his joints ached and groaned with every movement, and the dizziness began to take control.

There was a very real fear as he fought for his life. It coursed through him, so that his heart raced fast enough to cause pain, and he felt sweat all over his body, in the worst of places, so that the remains of his suit clung to him and hindered his actions. Sendak loomed over him. It brought back flashes of previous fights, images of prisoners dying in droves, and even the few whispered propositions from slaves and officers alike, that led every moment of his life to be spent constantly on edge, always wondering what may happen next . . .

_. . . ‘Hmm, I wonder what else that arm can do.’_

_‘I swear, Sendak,’ spat Shiro, ‘the next time I see you, I’ll choke the life out of you!’_

_‘My, I may have to hold you to that promise’ . . ._

. . . the cold rocks underfoot was so much like the cells. He could feel the walls closing in on him, as the sun began to set and the darkness matched that of outer space, and it stole his breath until he felt suffocated by his body. It was oppressive . . . the beating heart, the cold skin, the sense of otherworldly terror . . . he wanted to tear off his suit, give his body room to breathe, but his hands shook and his vision became tunnelled. He hadn’t made it this far to lose now, to be thrown back like an animal in a cage. The adrenaline soared.

He saw the claws on Sendak’s hand. They looked so much longer in the shadows, while he knew from experience that they were hard like bone and practically unbreakable, more like talons ready to rend flesh from limbs. It was as if the world moved in slow motion. Shiro sidestepped the oncoming strike, before he pulled a punch in turn, and – as he aimed high with the cybernetic arm – he saw a familiar flash of white canines, almost like fangs.

There was a hand around his neck.

Shiro felt it before he saw any sign of movement; it was wrapped tightly around his pale column, until he was forced to forgo his blow and raise his hands, and he tried – desperately, as he clawed and struck – to remove it from his body. The force of it knocked him off his feet, unable to find purchase on the smooth stone and with so much pain, and he was thrown flat upon his back with Sendak straddled above him, knees on either side of his chest. There was a familiar feeling of soft fur that tickled, along with a burning sensation in his throat.

“All alone again, I see,” said Sendak.

The hand tightened upon his neck. Shiro tried to let out a cry, as his fingers clawed at furred flesh and sought – with all his might – to wrench those digits away. There was a horrifying sense of dread; his heart raced so fast that it was almost a continuous hum, each beat merging into the next, and the pressure on his neck felt like a needle-like stabbing sensation, so that it was localised and hot and overwhelmed him. He felt his lungs burn, as his chest struggled to rise and fall in a natural rhythm. Shiro felt his eyes blur. He felt his mouth run dry.

“That Galra arm is the strongest part of you,” continued Sendak. “Still, you struggle to wield it with the efficiency of a true Galra soldier. You are no longer human, but no longer Galra. It must torment you to be _nothing_ , simply a shadow of your former self, and every bit the monster that you feared you would become. Even the Black Lion fears a thing like you.”

Panic flashed through his mind.

It was the horror at having left his friends behind. It was the guilt at having not been good enough to defeat Zarkon. It was the shame at having lost the Lion’s trust. He felt his hands slip, just for a second, as his eyes widened and the negative emotions washed over him, until he forgot what hope and happiness were like to experience, and soon he wondered – briefly – if he deserved this punishment. Shiro looked up into Sendak’s eyes, as his hands fell.

There was no laugh from the commander, but a frown that looked almost pitying and pathetic, until Shiro’s last thoughts were whether Sendak’s psychological attacks were merely practical as opposed to simply sadistic . . . there was no glee or amusement, not this time. He felt himself grow light-headed. It felt like the earth was moving . . . breathing . . . beneath his body, so that he was falling despite lying still, and his vision distorted with sparks of nauseating colour and strange shapes, until he closed his eyes. They were still there . . .

. . . _‘You will break. You are not special in that regard.’_

_Shiro felt the metal floor beneath his back. It was a cold, a reminder that he was still alive, even if he clung onto that same life by a thread. He knew his vision was fading, but every time it began to slip away – a spark of colour, the shroud of black – those fingers would loosen and that metal hand would deliver pain disguised as mercy. There was a burning pain in his lungs, as he drew deep breath and awaited further suffocation. Tears were in his eyes._

_The battles were nothing like this. The battles were between two ‘equals’, where all actions were allowed and each opponent had some chance at survival, but this was torture. This was a commander exerting power for power’s sake. He hated the druids, hated the way they experimented and prodded and poked, and hated the cybernetic arm that was never ‘quite right’, but most of all he hated Sendak. He hated himself. He hated how he provoked the enemy. He hated how he always fought back. He hated. Hated._

_‘Say it,’ commanded Sendak. ‘Say it, unless . . . you enjoy this?’_

_Shiro gave a weak laugh, before the hand tightened once more. He cried out, as – this time – claws dug into his flesh right next to his spine, so dangerously close and yet just out of distance, and the blood ran hot and wet down his back. The pain nearly distracted him from the sensation of being choked, as Sendak sat astride him, with feet just beneath each armpit, and yellow eyes oddly distant and disinterested, despite the amused smile on his lips._

_‘How many hours until this drives you to madness?’_

_Sendak clenched harder. Sparks flashed before Shiro’s eyes, as his body bucked and his hands clawed into the metal of the arm, nails scratched faint lines, one broke, and soon the pain was beyond endurance. This had been going on for too long, while the guards outside his cell merely stood silent, none willing to intervene. Shiro felt tears run down past his ears._

_‘Say it, Champion. Say the words.’_

_The hand let up again, so that Shiro was able to gulp in huge breaths of air, and the rush of oxygen nearly made him faint from relief alone. He felt the tears, borne from pain and reflex, and realised that even an hour more would destroy him. He broke under fear._

_‘V-Vrepit Sa,’ whispered Shiro._

_‘Louder. I want to hear it.’_

_‘Vrepit Sa!’ . . ._

_. . ._ Shiro awoke with a start.

There was an oil lamp to light the room; it was something antique even by Earth standards, and the only other piece of furniture was the low bed that he laid upon. A rough blanket and a flat pillow completed the bed, giving just enough to warmth to stop his bare body from freezing in the extremely cold night. Shiro noted a change of clothes piled next to him, on the cold floor, and the lack of windows only served to remind him of his old cell.

He drew in a deep breath, as he tried to assess his situation. It took all his strength to refrain from entering a panic; he closed his eyes to the room, breathed slow, and forced himself to slowly count his heartbeats until they gained a normal rhythm. Shiro patted down his body, desperate to make sure that there no new bruises or injuries, but all those he found were those from the crash-landing, which was a reassurance in itself. He quickly ran a hand over his neck, as he checked for serious injuries, before he dressed in the clothing left out.

The jumper and jeans felt skin-tight, both black in his usual style, and yet they were uncomfortable and compressed some his wounds far too much. Shiro remained barefoot, as he felt some relief from the cold floor on blistered and bloodied feet, and made his way to a door that was locked shut from the outside. _No,_ he thought, _I can’t panic, not yet_. He raised a trembling hand to the wood and banged as hard as he could for attention.

“Hey. Hey! Sendak, I know you’re out there!”

There was a sound like a laugh from the other side. Shiro noticed an inch gap beneath the door, which allowed in a stream of light, and would also allow in plates and trays to be slid underneath, before he realised someone had come to stand in front of the door. They blocked a great deal of light, until a flap on the door was opened and revealed a square large enough to showcase the face of Sendak. The cybernetic eye let out a strange glow, while the yellow eye caught the light and reflected it back, and it was a rather eerie appearance.

“Let me out, Sendak,” commanded Shiro.

The way the alien raised his eyebrow spoke volumes, enough that no laugh was needed to sense the mockery and disbelief that exuded from his expression. Shiro judged the size of the hole in the door, as well as the distance between him and Sendak, but it was ultimately not worth the risk to attempt a blow to that smarmy and arrogant face. He clenched his fists and held them by his side, as he listened to his heartbeat and swallowed hard.

“I’m afraid that isn’t possible,” said Sendak.

“What is this? Revenge?” Shiro shook his head. “You know that we had no choice but to keep you prisoner, don’t you? You threatened castle security, tried to take the lions by force, and – worse still – you put the lives of my team in danger. You left us with no choice.”

“Believe me, I am above such acts of revenge. This is more than a desire to see you suffer, but merely a tactical manoeuvre to bide my time and ensure my safety. Your people would see me exiled or imprisoned for my actions, which I both understand and wish to avoid, and as for my people -? Well, you may have noticed that very few fail an order and survive. It may just be that I can live to fight another day with _you_ as my bargaining chip.”

“So you’ll sell me out to the first person willing to offer you some freedom?” The very idea sickened Shiro to his core. “You really are a heartless monster! You finally have a taste of what it’s like to live on the run, to be chased by those that want only to hurt you, and you learn nothing about compassion or empathy. You’d use me just like –”

“You were used _all_ those times before, Champion.”

The flippant observation knocked the wind from Shiro. He bent over, as he rested his hand upon the doorframe, and he was forced to breathe deep to hold back the waves of nausea, as memories of fights and torture and the cybernetic implant struck his mind. It was difficult to see Sendak, not when Shiro kept his gaze low on the dirt floor of the room, but his eyes – unfocused and blurred – caught occasional glimpses of an emotionless face, whose yellow eyes observed him with an impassive curiosity. He looked to him and narrowed his gaze.

“How did you even _find_ me?” Shiro asked.

Sendak said nothing, but there was a movement of the shadow underneath the door. It resulted in something being slid beneath the wood, so that a tray filled with various – mostly edible – foods was presented on the floor in front of him. They were mostly cuts of meats, with a few vegetables that the Galra had learned humans needed through hard learnt lessons, and Shiro pondered whether he could use the tray as a weapon of sorts.

“I landed on some backwater planet,” said Sendak. “After you expelled me from your ship, of course. It took some time, but I was eventually able to carve for myself an identity and move to a planet more suited to my needs. It was there that I began to track your movements, using the signature of your lion as my primary means. I was lucky to have found you.”

“This is what you call lucky?”

“Indeed. I needed you on your own, Paladin. It was also good luck that you landed in the same solar system to me, as well as that your lion appears to have lost some loyalty to you, and it was that same signature I was able to track. Do not worry about your lion; I am not ready for the wrath of the Galra Empire to fall upon me, as such I have used some personal devices to hide its signature from those that may search for its whereabouts.”

“So where are we? You couldn’t have taken me off-planet.” Shiro nudged the tray by his feet, before he gave a low hiss of breath. “There were Galra here, possibly soldiers, and – if what you say is true – it means you’re no safer than I am. Where are we, Sendak?”

“Right where you landed. We’re hiding in plain sight.”

Shiro looked to the walls of the room; they were stone and cold, somewhat damp to the touch, and they emitted no light in the slightest. He heard no sounds above or below. It was entirely possible that were in a cave-house that the locals appeared to reside within, but that left the question of how such abodes were designed within, as a labyrinth styled lair would be more difficult to escape than a small enclave. Shiro knelt down, as he carefully pushed about items on his plates, and used the sound as a distraction. He pressed his head to the ground.

Sendak would be unable to see him from the other side, which gave Shiro ample opportunity to look beneath the door and see what lay beyond. There was a large room lit by several lamps, with an array of technology and mechanical items strewn across the floor, and – centre of it all – there was a large blanket with several cushions. It looked like Sendak had made the room beyond into a workspace, while he chose to work on the floor rather than desks.

“You seem quiet,” said Sendak. “I will leave you to eat.”

There was a shuffling of feet, before Shiro heard a soft ‘thud’ and saw long legs crossed upon the floor, while hands darted about in search of objects and tools, and Shiro – unwilling to be caught spying – pulled back and tried to focus on the passing of time. He ignored the food, too much out of fear that it could be poisoned in some way, and instead began to work on a plan to escape from Sendak and to find a way to his friends.

If he escaped once, he knew he could escape again.

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

# Chapter Four

Lance stopped at the edge of the incline.

There were more guards on duty that morning; he could just about make out – through the bushes and down the slope – two on either side of the main entrance, each one dressed head-to-toe in Galra gear and carrying weapons to put any of theirs to shame. Every entrance or window featured a soldier, while planes and vehicles appeared in a constant stream, so that he struggled to make out a pattern or time their entrances and departures.

“Whew, okay, I can do this,” he muttered.

Lance struck at his cheeks with both hands, while he cast a glance back and saw the smoke from their campfire, which – he hoped – was a sure-fire sign that Coran was still asleep, as that would make his mission a lot easier by far. The temperature was pretty low, enough that spending the night inside the Lion had been a necessity, and he was forced to hop from heel to heel in an attempt to get the blood moving and keep his muscles limber. The sun looked like it was at its highest point, so he deduced there would be little shadow to give him away.

He gave a nudge to the communicator in his helmet, as a last-ditch attempt at finding one of his team without the need to sneak onto an enemy base, but – as usual – there was nothing except static and odd words. There was nothing from Shiro, which was worrisome when he was sure he heard his voice before, but he did manage to catch snippets of Hunk’s voice, along with Pidge, and so was relieved that at least his two closest friends survived the ordeal.

Lance narrowed his eyes and puffed out his cheeks, as he knelt on his heels and watched the small puffs of steam leave his lips. The truth was that Shiro would have a plan, something they could use and work upon, but Lance’s idea wasn’t too unlike something Keith would come up with, which was to just run down the incline when no one looked about, before storming inside and hoping to find a communicator device. It was suicidal at worst and stupid at best, but somehow Keith always made it work and if _he_ could pull it off -?

“Right, I’m going in! Let’s do this!”

 _“Oh no, we are_ not _doing this!”_

Lance was barely on his feet, before he felt someone tackle him to the ground. It was a horrible sense of _déjà vu_ , particularly when the tree behind him sent a shatter of splinters all over him, and the sound of gunfire sent a rush of panicked adrenaline through him. He felt Coran’s arms wrapped around his waist. The older man kept him flush against the hard ground, in the exact same position they found themselves the day before, and his head was lifted enough to look Lance in the eyes. Coran’s cheeks were flushed and lips pursed.

There was time to give a large sigh. Lance shoved Coran hard; it forced the red-headed man off his body and onto his back, where he gave a hiss of pain and sat upright, which revealed a few red lines in the blue of his suit. It was apparent the gunshots burned the top layer of his skin, enough to rip cloth and cause some blood to rise, but – to Lance’s eyes – they were shallow enough not to be too much of a threat. He pulled himself up and sat cross-legged.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” teased Lance.

He nearly winced at Coran’s reaction, as the older man huffed and leaned into him. Coran pressed both sets of knuckles down against the soil, while his nostrils flared and eyes narrowed, and his back and arms both seemed straight as iron rods. Lance looked away in an attempt to hide his nervousness, as he scratched the inside of his ear with a pinkie finger. It was pretty obvious that there was some yelling to follow, while the guards now seemed to spread out around the perimeter of the incline, although none dared to climb upward.

“You can’t just _walk_ into an enemy base,” said Coran.

“I wasn’t going to walk!” Lance gave a wide smile. “I was going to run.”

“Do you have _any_ idea how far away we may be from the others? Our priority must be on finding them and reuniting with them, not on infiltrating enemy bases without support. Listen, I can understand your impatience, as there was one time where I –”

“Coran, I hate to cut you off, but what we need is a way to get in touch with Allura, right? I think I found a way! Our communicators are down, so I figured the best way to fix them would be to get some spare parts from the Galra base here, and – well – I think I might be able to sneak in through one of the crates and sneak back out the same way. There must be something of worth in there, as why else all the guards? We just need a distraction.”

“Well, that would certainly be one of the things we would need.” Coran twiddled the corner of his moustache. “I do believe there may be a problem with the castle, else the princess would certainly have used a wormhole to retrieve us, which is why I thought sending our co-ordinates would be more beneficial than simply talking to them through direct means.”

“Yeah, but don’t we still need a way to send our co-ordinates?”

“Yes, along with _knowing_ our co-ordinates!”

Coran gave a wink and raised his index finger. It sounded like his point should have been a bad one, but he said it with such innocent joy that it was hard to imagine he meant them at face value, while his smile was almost devious in nature. Lance gave a groan and crawled over to a small clearing, where he could stand without being in line of sight of the guards below, and – as he cricked his neck – saw Coran stand not far beside him.

“I managed to strike a deal with the natives,” said Coran.

There was a flick of a hand and soon Lance saw the reason behind the smile, as a small device appeared in Coran’s grasp that looked almost like a compact mirror. It flipped open to reveal a small screen on one side, with buttons on the other, and the language looked possibly Altean. Lance ran straight to his friend’s side, as he leaned over and poked at the metal that was unlike any material he remembered, while Coran closed his eyes and rested his free hand on his hip, while he gave a smirk that spoke of great pride.

“You’re kidding, right?” Lance asked.

“I kid you not!” Coran beamed and jumped a little on his toes. “I climbed over the fence and spoke to the chief of the nearest tribe, who gave me this little number in exchange for making him a part of the Voltron Alliance! Well, once we defeat Zarkon and come back to free his people, of course, but first things first, eh, Lance? Let’s head back to the Lion.”

“Do you think we can hook it up to my communicator? Get a message to Allura? Ah, I hope it’s Allura that picks up! Knowing my luck, it’ll be Keith . . . ugh, Keith, that’s just what I need after a crash-landing and a camp-out in Galra territory. No fair!”

“You know, Lance, about your relationship with Keith . . .”

Lance drew in a deep breath and crossed his arms over his chest, as he tried to give Coran the benefit of the doubt, while the older man simply waved his free hand in the air, almost as if trying to draw circles with his fingers. It was clear that he was trying to get Lance to finish the thought, but – frankly – it was far too cold in the jungle-like environment for him to even want to fool around with half-baked hypothetical situations. He turned and began to walk back to the Lion, with hands in his pockets and back hunched over.

“What about it?”

“Well,” said Coran, “when you say you _especially_ like spending time with women, it always seems to imply a preference, yes, but not an exclusive attraction. We had this thing – back on Altea – called ‘unresolved sexual tension’. Now, I know it’s a bit different –”

“Okay, we’re not going there! Nope! Let’s just go find the others . . .”

“No worries, Lance, but when I was your age, I also –”

“ _Lalala_ , I can’t hear you!”

* * *

“Let me out, Sendak!”

Shiro struck hard upon the door. There was a creak from the hinges, but – despite all his strength, despite the cybernetic implant – it remained standing and barely gave any sign of being affected by the blow. The lantern in his cell was smashed, allowing only for the thin stream of light underneath the door, but the darkness benefited him by disallowing Sendak sight inside and sight of Shiro, and the tray of food was upturned and broken.

He clenched the shard of plastic in his hand, stolen from the remains of the tray, before he slid it into his pocket and waited for the opportunity to put it to use. The door was opened every six hours to remove the bucket of waste, which meant – with quick enough movements – he could slide the shard between door and frame when Sendak left, and it would likely prevent the door from clicking shut and locking behind him. Sendak appeared to have a shorter sleep cycle than Shiro, but it should be enough to escape and get to the Lion.

“I swear, Sendak, you’ll regret this!”

There was a loud huff from outside the door, far closer than he anticipated, and soon the light beneath the door was blocked by two long shadows reminiscent of legs, enough to reveal that Sendak was there and waiting for a reason to respond. Shiro heard a low and rhythmic exhale of breath, from a height just above him, as the air began to feel cold and he remembered all too well what those calm silences often lead to in his imprisonment. He swallowed hard and brought his hand to the piece of plastic, wondering whether it could make a weapon.

It felt cold in his hand; the edge was smooth, while the point was surprisingly sharp, and he mentally tried to envision the weakest points on a Galra body. The silence carried onward. It was broken only by the sound of something crumbling, like an object being affixed to plaster, before there followed a high-pitched whirring sound and a flash of light, which forced Shiro to hiss in pain and throw his arm over his eyes to protect his vision.

“Do you know what this is, Paladin?”

Shiro struggled to realise a question had been asked. The voice was low, with the hint of a rumble or purr behind it, and he struggled to recognise the tone and intended effect, far too used to only hearing that tone when he ‘amused’ Sendak in some manner. He stepped away from the door, as his eyes glanced over every corner and every brick, and he tried to analyse what possible traps or devices could be lurking without his knowledge. There was a series of beeps from just outside the door, followed by a shuffle of fabric and the shadow moved.

“What did you do?” Shiro asked.

“I imagine you are rather confused,” continued Sendak. “This device creates a barrier, which essentially masks and eliminates all noise from within your cell. I cannot hear your response, but nor do I care to hear it. I only need your guaranteed silence for as long as I meet with the Resistance leader, after that -? I’ll be delighted to hear your screams of complaint.”

“R-Resistance? There’s a Resistance? Sendak? Sendak!”

“That will be all for now.”

Shiro gave a frustrated scream, as he struck at the door. There was no indication that Sendak heard the gesture, even as Shiro grabbed the remains of the tray and tossed it across the cell, where it crashed against a wall and splintered even further and completely broke. He threw himself to the ground, as he debated whether to throw something from underneath the door, but there was too much of a risk that Sendak would harm the Resistance member, especially when Shiro was his only means of a bargaining chip. Shiro watched instead.

The gap beneath the door revealed what looked like a Galra officer from afar, as he stood by a door that shone forth enough light to make clear that it was an exit, and the dark uniform was the clearest part of the soldier. The gap wasn’t large enough to make out a face, but he saw how the man stood with legs apart and hands clasped behind his back, and – in a strange way – there seemed to be an element of trust between the two men.

Sendak stood some distance from the other man. There was no impression of intimacy, although they made eye contact and made no sudden movements, and Shiro noted that this newcomer kept still enough to indicate that he was serious about the discussion at hand, possibly even in a position higher than Sendak in some manner. Shiro let out a hiss of breath, as he fished around for a shard of plastic, before he placed it carefully just underneath the gap to the see the other man’s face. It was long, bearded, with short ears and a serious scowl.

_‘You know that we cannot trust you with our information.’_

The man’s voice sounded distorted, likely through the device pressed against the wall, and yet he sensed a harshness to it that spoke of someone sceptical and concerned. There was an expression on the man that reminded Shiro of Keith in some ways, of a person stoic and reserved, and he wondered what would bring such a man into the company of a sadist, particularly one that could still be aligned to Zarkon. He felt the grit and dirt upon the stone dig into his skin, as his heart raced and his breathing quickened.

 _‘You assume I wish to be associated with your people,’_ said Sendak.

‘ _Don’t you?’_ The man gave a hiss of breath. _‘It is common knowledge that you failed in your mission; Zarkon would have your head upon his mantel, yet here you are among those that seek to oppose him. You seek to betray us to save yourself, at least if you had an ounce of self-preservation, or you have chosen to betray Zarkon in order to join what may soon be the winning side. We have no time for traitors or the fickle.’_

 _‘I merely see to hide in plain sight, as do_ you _it would seem. I cannot betray your location without betraying mine, and what good would that do to me without information to give that would ensure my life? I will leave you alone, Thace, but I expect that same courtesy to be extended to me in turn. I shall leave here in time, when it suits me.’_

Shiro withdrew the piece of plastic. The other man – Thace – took a step toward the cell, as if he could sense Shiro in some shape or form, and he knew that it was far too risky to attempt at escape at that moment, especially with someone around that could be hurt in the ensuing drama that would inevitably follow. Thace did not walk any closer, but he did stand enough in the light that Shiro caught a few blades of grass stuck to his feet with some mud, which was a sign that there was foliage and greenery nearby. That meant natural camouflage.

_‘What do you have in that room, Sendak?’_

_‘Nothing that concerns you,’_ said Sendak.

There was a flash of darkness; Sendak extinguished one of the lanterns, which sent a cloak of shadow about the room and made it difficult to see beneath the door, and – as Shiro strained to see Thace and Sendak – he heard soft footsteps grow further away, until the one set became two set and a door creaked open with a loud echo of sound. Sendak said:

_‘I think it is time you left, Thace.’_

The door closed behind him.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Shiro watched with bated breath.

The door opened a few feet, enough to reveal Sendak. It was an all too familiar sight, one that often came with the familiar feeling of a cold draught, and – as the cool air washed over him, causing goosebumps over his flesh – he realised how much he relished these moments. He caught a scent of freshly cooked meat, cooked over a small burner in the living quarters of Sendak just beyond his cell door, and he also caught something fresh like flowers, so that he was certain the Galra commander was not long from outside. Pollen clung to his fur.

It was nerve-wracking to watch, as Shiro felt his heart race and assumed the usual position. He pressed his body against the far wall of the cell, with hands clasped behind his back just above the buttocks, as he anticipated the cuffs that would immobilise his arms, and – right on cue – he felt the familiar cold metal around his wrists. They were tight enough to cause a spark of pain, but not enough to bruise or cut into his skin like they once achieved . . .

_. . . ‘Commander Sendak requires an audience.’_

_‘An audience?’ Shiro struggled to breathe. ‘What kind of “audience”?’_

_The handcuffs bit into his flesh; he gave a hiss of breath, as his hands instinctively clenched and his back arched, and he felt something warm and liquid upon his palm, just enough that he realised there was blood and – worse – the blood belonged to him. There was a push against his head. His cheek was forced against the cold metal, rough from where the previous occupant clawed lines along its surface, and his neck began to ache with the pressure._

_It took only a moment for him to be thrown back, by the handcuffs themselves, until he was sprawled at the feet of the second guard, where he looked up with a pleading expression that he hoped would bring forth some small mercy. The floor was dirty. He could smell something metallic, like iron, while someone screamed in the distance, enough to cause his head to jerk instinctively in their direction. A harsh boot slammed itself onto his shoulder, as the guard laughed and ground the joint against the floor. It was sore. Barely healed._

_The first guard – the one that cuffed him – stood immediately behind them. He laughed. It cut through Shiro like a knife, as he knew all too well the sadism of the guards and just how far they sometimes went, and to fight back now would be suicide. The last time he scratched one of their faces had ended in solitary confinement, a blunt weapon in the arena, and a beating that caused one rib to puncture his lung. He stayed still._

_‘How about a deal, Champion? You have spunk.’_

_‘What kind of deal?’ Shiro spat. ‘Tell me.’_

_‘Sendak gave you that pretty scar, didn’t he?’ The boot moved from his shoulder. ‘I bet that hurt like hell. The Druids said you lost a lot of blood, broke your nose, too, didn’t it? If you take a “private audience” with me, for an hour, I’ll make excuses to Sendak and you can avoid your audience with him. It’s the deal of a century, Champion.’_

_Shiro felt his blood run cold, as his stomach gave a violent churn. It began slowly, but soon it contracted and tightened, until his oesophagus and throat followed suit, and he was forced to breathe deep and slow to prevent the retching from turning into a pile of vomit. He knew what some of the prisoners did to survive, but he knew he would rather die than lose what little dignity he had left in life. The scar on his nose ached, almost like a fresh cut on unbroken skin, and it seared and burned and reminded him of what also may await him._

_‘Tempting as that offer may be,’ muttered Shiro. ‘I’ll take my chances.’_

_‘Your loss, Champion. I treat my pets with respect.’_

_‘I’m Takashi Shirogane and I’m no one’s pet!’_

_There was another laugh from behind._

_‘Not yet,’ said the first soldier . . ._

_. . ._ Shiro tried to force back unpleasant memories. The piece of plastic in his hand acted as an anchor, so that it grounded him and brought him to the present, and yet – as he held it – the tip pierced into his skin and brought with it a speck of blood. It took all his self-control to loosen his grip enough to prevent further damage, especially as he needed to keep the stray piece of plastic from the sight of Sendak. He wondered whether Sendak could hear how his heart raced, smell the blood upon his palm, or even sensed the fear in the cool air.

He heard something metal being placed upon the ground, likely a fresh and clean bucket for any necessary waste, while the other bucket – with a sloshing sound that caused Shiro to furrow his brow and widen his nostrils – was removed with nary a complaint. There followed a sound of fabric falling to the ground, likely fresh clothes and sheets, but those only reminded Shiro of how long it had been since he last bathed or cleaned himself.

Sendak let out a strange sound.

It was somewhere between a huff and a growl, one that bordered between frustration and pity, and soon there were clawed hands upon his wrists, which undid the handcuffs with enough force that – once pulled back – they nearly yanked him to the ground. He struggled to maintain a balance, as he stumbled back a few steps, but also struggled to keep the content of his hand hidden from sight, as Sendak headed to the cell door. He was nearly gone.

Shiro acted while there was still a chance. He threw himself toward the door and quickly shoved the plastic between the wood and wall, so that the internal latch could not click shut, and – much to his misfortune – it was clear Sendak saw and heard his attempt. The Galra commander spun around and threw open the door. The wood smashed against the opposing wall, with a large crack, while the piece of plastic dropped to the floor and rattled against the stone. Sendak stood in the doorway with frame filling the space.

“You will not escape this time, Paladin,” said Sendak.

“Try and stop me, Sendak!”

Shiro kicked out at Sendak. He caused Sendak to double over, as the weight behind the attack caused him considerable pain and bruised his leg, but – with the angle and lack of space – it was difficult to knock him off his feet, while he used the wall to stay upright. It was just a moment, but a moment was all he needed. Shiro climbed to his feet and made to dash past Sendak, whose face contorted into a dangerous and feral expression.

There was a growl from the other man’s lips; it sent shivers down Shiro’s spine, enough that he remembered the sound all too well from past altercations, and he purposely angled his body to avoid the hand that swiped at him. Sendak was unused to his right arm, even with the practise since losing his left, and those natural claws swiped just an inch too high, so that they scraped Shiro’s cheek and left only a white graze, without drawing blood. Shiro heaved a sigh of relief, as he spun around and made his way into the room beyond.

Sendak followed suit, before he pounced upon Shiro.

It took all of Shiro’s energy and strength to throw himself out of the way. The cushions and blankets upon the floor moved with Sendak, who landed on all three limbs rather like a wild animal, and – as Shiro turned to look at him – he saw fangs bared and yellow eyes narrowed into a dangerous glare upon him. He felt his heart race, as adrenaline coursed through him, and ran for the main door, as he prayed he healed enough in captivity to make it to the Resistance members, assuming they could be found. Shiro met the handle with his hand.

“If you leave now, your friends will die,” shouted Sendak.

Shiro ignored every word. He pulled at the handle.

The excitement and fear both died at once, as he realised the door was locked. He saw – as he spun and raised his cybernetic arm in defence – Sendak dangled a key from his fingers on a long chain made from the finest and rarest of materials, as if he taunted Shiro into taking it and putting himself at risk. Shiro was no fool. He knew that to fight would be to damn him, but to surrender would be to accept any punishment; the best option was to break down the door. The door looked several inches thick, with the lock involving complex technology –

“Listen to me, Paladin!”

Sendak was instantly upon him. Shiro felt a clawed hand upon his neck, enough that the fingers cut into his flesh and the strong grip choked him for a brief second, and – as he began to panic – he was thrown into the centre of the room. He landed hard upon the blankets; his elbows screamed in protest, as he crawled onto all fours and caught the rich scent of Sendak all over the material around him, and he nearly choked upon the heady scent.

There was no time to retaliate, not with reflexes and instincts so weakened, and Sendak let out a roar and was behind him in a flash. Those furred fingers were wrapped around the back of his neck, before they forced his head flush against the blanket, while Sendak’s legs rested upon Shiro’s and groin pressed itself against buttocks. It was a humiliating position. The oddly sexual overtones were clear, while the forced submissiveness only reminded Shiro of his time as prisoner, where every day was a fight for survival and dignity, and he felt sick.

“You have the advantage here,” said Sendak.

“Is – is that some kind of joke?”

“It’s a simple observation.” Sendak gave a growled breath. “You have two free arms, while our strength has always been approximately equal to one another, as I’m sure you’ll remember from the few stalemates between us. I have but one arm now; as such, you could overpower me should I allow it. I will let you up, but I ask that you hear me out.”

Shiro drew in as deep a breath as he could manage . . . _the weight of a body above him, preventing him from moving, claustrophobic and confining, afraid something more would come, nothing ever did, and the laughter – the laughter! – as if he knew, as if he wanted him to fear for the worst . . ._ Shiro began to retch and heave, until Sendak moved away and stood to his feet, giving Shiro enough space to roll onto his back and calm himself. He looked up to Sendak with narrowed eyes, heaving for breath, until he sat upright and asked:

“What could you possibly have to say that I’d want to hear?”

“How about the fact that Zarkon has the entire Galra Empire looking for the Black Lion?” Sendak gave a bitter laugh. “If you move it from where I have hidden it, Zarkon will be able to track the lion and take it from you. Rumour has it that you and the Lion have lost your bond; if this is true, particularly if the Lion favours Zarkon, it will mean sacrificing Voltron to Zarkon and dooming the entire universe. Your friends would soon perish.”

The words fell heavy in the air around them. Shiro struggled to process them, as he climbed to his feet and took two shaky steps away from the other man, while he clenched his fists and prepared to attack should the need arise. He realised – as he looked briefly about the room for the first time – that Sendak had effectively built a nest, one that was primarily for comfort and yet also allowed for work on various pieces of equipment. It was strange to think of Sendak as a person, stranger still to think of him as one with a ‘nest’.

“Why would you care about that, Sendak?”

Shiro walked backward, where he leaned against the wall. He watched Sendak with a stern gaze, as his hands rested back upon the cool stone, and – as he kept his eyes trained upon the Galra commander – he realised that the key was placed upon a nearby counter. It would be easy to grab the key and make an escape, but Sendak was right that the Galra Empire would find him in an instant. Sendak broke the silence with a low question:

“Do you know why I followed Zarkon?”

“I didn’t assume it was from the goodness of your heart,” spat Shiro.

“There was very little choice in the matter,” said Sendak. “My people were born under the control of Zarkon, who – as you may know – has ruled for ten-thousand years. It has been so long that much of our history before that period has been lost. You may also have noticed that those who disobey or fail Emperor Zarkon often . . . disappear.”

“So why didn’t you join the Resistance?” Shiro rolled back his shoulders. “If you really plan on letting me leave, that will be the first place I go for help. They don’t seem to trust you, Sendak, so why should I? You seemed to delight in sadism, unless _that_ was for Zarkon, too?”

“Oh, most certainly not. The sadism was simply for fun.”

The smile on Sendak’s lips looked almost feral. It caused the corner of his eyes to crinkle, as his fist clenched and opened in a pantomime manner, and he cocked his head to the side to observe Shiro with a strange look, made all the stranger with his cybernetic eye that glowed in the low lighting of the cave-like abode. There was something telling about how Sendak’s fur bristled, reminiscent of a wild animal, and Shiro licked his lips out of nervous habit, as he quickly assessed the door to his cell and outside area. He needed a plan of escape.

“I do not wish to be executed, however,” said Sendak.

“I never wanted to lose my arm, but these things just happen.”

“I thought you might appreciate a deal.” Sendak gave a small chuckle. “I do not wish to join the Resistance, but I do feel that their tolerance would enable me to survive Zarkon’s inevitable fall and perhaps even succeed in the proposed Voltron Alliance. Currently, I am the only person that knows where the Black Lion is hidden.”

Shiro felt his skin pale considerably as a wave of fear washed over him, and – as much as he trusted himself to find the Lion with sense alone – he doubted whether it would be possible to find with a broken bond and Sendak’s technological devices. He let his hands fall loose by his sides, as his fingers fell limp, and his shoulders slumped under the encroaching weight of defeat, so that his eyes fell from Sendak for the first time since the discussion began. Sendak gave a noise much like a scoff, before his smile faded and he asked:

“Ah, you thought I left it where you landed?”

“N-No, of course not,” muttered Shiro.

“I will take you to the Resistance, whereby they will be able to help you track Princess Allura’s location and reunite you with your team,” said Sendak. “In return, you will guarantee me safety in the Voltron Alliance, at which point – when all is signed and secured – I will return to you the location of the Black Lion. The choice is yours, _Shiro_.”

There was little comfort to the ensuing silence. Shiro ran a hand over his face, although the skin felt clammy and cold to the touch, and he looked to Sendak with a squint to his eye and a curl to his lips. It was difficult to judge the truth of the matter, although he was inclined to believe the Galra commander, and yet – as he pondered what option was best – he bore the scars and hair turned white from stress, both of which attested to Sendak’s violence.

“How long do I have to make a decision?” Shiro asked.

Sendak gave a throaty laugh in response.  

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

“Okay, is it working now?”

Lance stood over Coran, with hands grasping his knees. It was a slightly uncomfortable position, but it enabled him to stand straight and stretch when the urge struck him, while he also found the best view of the communicator. The device was laid before Coran, open and with the top-half reflecting back the two men in front of the Blue Lion, and Lance struggled to see how it could possibly find their co-ordinates or even send them to the others.

The weather was extremely warm, so that Lance struggled to fight back the sweat across his forehead, while his uniform clung to his body in an awkward manner, and – as he squinted his eyes to get a better view of the screen – he saw Coran’s purple eyes looking up at him with a crinkle of amusement at the corners. Coran sat cross-legged before the device, seemingly indifferent to each time Lance’s hands or knees would knock against his back, and his white gloves were stained with mud and oil, as they fiddled with the knobs.

“Well,” said Coran, “it most certainly is not _not_ working.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Is it or isn’t it?”

“I’ve managed to work out our co-ordinates, yes.” Coran raised a hand to his chin, as he pursed his lips enough to make his moustache bristle. “The problem is finding the others to send those co-ordinates to them in turn, but – fret not – I think I’ve worked it all out! I was able to get a hit on Shiro’s communicator, as well as what _may_ be Allura’s location.”

Lance threw himself beside Coran. He leaned into the other man’s space with a smile, as he looked with wide eyes and clasped hands at the device, and – as he continued to stare at the otherwise blank screen – he saw the reflection of Coran wore a strange expression. The older man let his lips pull up at one side, almost in a half-smile, while his head cocked to one side and his eyes gazed up at the treetops above them. There was a bead of sweat on his forehead, while the clammy and sticky climate began to feel oppressive. Lance asked:

“That’s great news! Right? So what do we do now?”

“I’ve forwarded our locations to the castle,” said Coran with a wink. “I’m rather proud of our work here, if I do say so myself! It’s not easy getting one these blighters to work, you know. Still, with _some_ luck, I should be able to make contact. Just got to fix the screen.”

“Oh, you should have said! I’ve had this problem. It just needs a whack.”

“I’m sorry, Lance, but we can’t just ‘whack’ a –”

Coran gave a loud and piercing cry. Lance ignored it, as he continued to strike the screen with the side of his hand, even as Coran fell forward onto his knees and began to wave his hands about with wild and exaggerated movements. He wore an open-mouthed expression, with wide eyes and pale skin, but Lance continued to strike and poke in the expectation that it might just fix whatever was wrong with the screen, until – with a virtual scream – Coran snatched the device away and cradled it in his arms against his chest.

“It’s a fragile device, Lance! You can’t just –”

“Hey, I think it’s working!”

There was a strange sound from the device, before the screen flashed several times, and – with a spark of bright light that caused both to look away – suddenly there appeared the familiar picture of their teammate upon the polished glass. It was difficult to make out at first, as there was a lot of static over the image, but he soon made out the white uniform and black hair, along with the infuriatingly impassive expression that made Lance pout.

 _‘Hello_ ,’ said Keith. _‘Is anyone there_?’

Coran nearly dropped the communicator, as the surprise caused him to stumble. It shook in and out of Coran’s hands, until he eventually got it in a safe grip and placed it on a rock just before him, where it sat motionless with the screen aimed upon them. The two men sat next to one another, as the stifling heat continued to oppress them, and – as they looked – they saw Allura just next to Keith, although the image was bad enough to occasionally obscure her from sight. Lance licked his lips and raised his eyebrows on sight of her.

It was a comforting sight to see a pretty face, but – before he could utter a word – he felt an elbow jab into his ribcage with surprising strength. He winced in pain and looked to Coran; the older man looked absently into space, with his hands upon his knees and eyes wide in seeming wonder, and it was such an innocent expression that Lance pouted at once and decided it was best not to make a big deal. Eventually, he spoke to the screen:

“Yo, Keith, it’s us!”

‘ _We got your co-ordinates, along with what could be Shiro’s,_ ’ said Keith. ‘ _Shiro’s communicator appears broken, as Pidge says it keeps coming in and out of signal. We can’t get a hit on his Lion at all, but we’ve managed to find yours. The co-ordinates helped narrow things down. Allura thinks we may be able to fix the castle now, too, as we can calibrate according to the information at hand. We’ll get Shiro, then stop by for you.’_

“Whoa, hold it right there, Mister I’m-Suddenly-In-Charge,” snapped Lance, as he jabbed his finger at the screen. “We’ve been here for days! You don’t even want to see what we’ve had to eat, because – trust me – it’s so bad that it looks pretty much the same coming out as it looks going in! Why aren’t you picking us up first? We need help!”

‘ _You’re fine, aren’t you? You and Coran both look completely okay. The fact you’re communicating with us at all means you must have somewhere safe to camp out. It makes more logical sense for us to go for Shiro first. He could be hurt.’_

“This isn’t about logic! It’s about what’s right! Come get us!”

There was a huff of breath from Keith. Those eyebrows knitted together, while he cocked his head slightly to the side and observed them silently for a long few seconds, and – as the awkward quiet continued – he turned to look in Allura’s direction. The princess said something that couldn’t quite be made out, as the signal was too weak and she stood too far from the microphone, but his expression took on a hue of confusion that began to irk Lance more than he liked to admit. Keith sometimes seemed way too inhuman.

‘ _Fine, Allura says we can take a wormhole to you.’_

“Seriously? Thank you so much! I totally –”

Keith turned off the signal.

It caused the glass screen to reflect back their images. He saw Coran give a sweet and since smile, as he looked to the corner of the glass where Allura had flitted in and out of sight, and the way his cheeks puffed out gave him an aura of pride, as if he felt a spark of paternal relief that she survived the same as them. The older man reached out to gently close the device and placed it inside a pocket of his suit, while Lance simply sat and punched at the soil with lazy and awkward movements, until his hand was covered with mud. He said mostly to himself:

“Damn it, Keith is such an ass!”

Coran gave a half-smile and reached out to place a hand upon his shoulder, which – despite his anger and hunger – caused Lance to sag and give a half-felt smile in turn, as he watched Coran through the corner of his eyes. Coran stood slowly to his feet, as he brushed away the dirt and mud from his buttocks and legs, before he reached out a hand to Lance and pulled him to his feet, with a surprising amount of strength that caused him a blush.

“I don’t think he means to be, Lance,” said Coran.

“Yeah? Well, I don’t see Allura just willing to leave us here!”

“I think you’re forgetting that Keith thinks in a very different way.” Coran twiddled his moustache with a saddened expression. “He is a very rational and pragmatic man, so – from his perspective – the right thing would be to find Shiro first and foremost, so as to minimalise potential causalities, being that he knows we’re better than an Altean summer!”

“It’d make more sense to get us first! We’ve suffered enough here,” said Lance. “You help everyone that you can, doing what you can whenever you can do it, and you don’t leave people to struggle just because someone else may also need help, especially when –”

“Especially when they may not need help? Yes, well, that’s a good reason for some, but it’s evidently a bit different for our Keith. He struggles so much with interpersonal relationships, Lance; he takes language very literally at times, which is why he sometimes struggles with your little games like that ‘group chant’ at our celebration with the Arusians, and that’s not to mention that his affective empathy is a little lacking in compared to his cognitive empathy.”

There was a comfortable silence between them. Lance knew that Coran only meant to educate him on matters, but there were just so many unanswered questions. He felt a stab of jealousy that, even now, Keith seemed to be the favoured one that everyone tried to understand or excuse, but he also couldn’t deny that there was something odd about Keith. It was too hot for comfort in the jungle environment, which didn’t help his patience in the slightest, and Lance lowered his head so that his chin rested against his chest.

“Yeah, I’m not following,” admitted Lance.

“My point is that he thinks and feels very differently,” said Coran. “Oh, he tries, yes, but sometimes – no matter how hard you try – it’s not enough to bridge that gap. He wants to be your friend and a good teammate, but it’s sometimes like you’re speaking two different languages. He says one thing and we hear another. It’s not his fault, poor chap.”

“You’re making it sound like there’s something wrong with him.”

“Not _wrong_ , per se, but simply just that –”

Coran was cut short by gunfire. It was rapid and close to them, enough that there was a spray of leaves and dirt from the bushes a few feet from their feet, and Lance – as he jumped back and angled his body out of the way – felt a sharp stab of panic. He cast a glance over his friend’s shoulder and saw the Lion in relatively perfect condition, and he felt grateful that they moved their camp that same morning to be closer to an easy escape route.

“Okay, so we get onboard the Lion?” Lance asked.

“We get onboard the Lion,” agreed Coran.

* * *

Allura looked to Keith with concern.

The windows of the castle overlooked Balmera; it was a truly beautiful sight, as the crystals shone in the light and cast long shadows about the earth, and – in the distance – Hunk could be seen with Shay, so that the affection between the two was quite clear. There was a sense of relief at the knowledge that Coran was alive and well, so that her hand came to her breast and fell into a relaxed fist, and she tried to subdue her smile in reaction to Keith.

He simply stared at the control panel, as if he saw it for the first time. Those blue-grey eyes were wide with a strange sort of curiosity, while his lips looked almost at a pout, and he let his hand hover over the controls. Allura stepped behind him, as she pulled her hair up into a bun and placed a gloved hand upon his shoulder. There was no response at first, while she felt a minute tensing to his muscles, but she knew that he was likely trying to decipher the intention behind the gesture. Allura decided to help him understand by asking:

“Are you okay, Keith?”

There was little hint of a reaction, but Allura knew he often appeared impassive when he attempted to analyse a situation or understand something unknown. The muscles of his shoulder relaxed a little, until he turned to face her directly, and – even as he averted his eyes and looked slightly away – she could sense that she held his full attention and respect. It was just the right temperature inside the control room, while life was peaceful upon Balmera, and Allura hoped that it would all contribute into easing his soul.

“He hates me, doesn’t he?” Keith asked.

“No, I do not think that Lance could ever hate you,” she said with a smile. “I can understand his frustration, but it is simply that he does not understand your different perspective on matters. I know you would have rather left me prisoner, as opposed to risking Voltron falling into the wrong hands, and I applaud you for making a decision that benefited the group and even the universe, but you _must_ understand that others could not make such a choice.

“It is practical, as well as noble, but many do not believe that the happiness of many is worth the sacrifice of even one person. I myself am one of them.” Allura gave a blush and looked down with a smile. “Lance saw your decision to seek Shiro over him in such a light, but I am afraid that is simply as he has not learnt to empathise with your situation.”

“My situation? You mean where Shiro is the only one who understands me, while the rest of my team think me a cold and heartless monster, just because I think with my head and act with more spontaneity than they do. There’s something wrong with me, isn’t there?”

“You cannot help your condition, Keith. There is no shame in that.”

“I just wish I could understand them.”

Allura noticed that he looked afar. It was easy to follow his gaze, where she saw how Hunk laughed and danced and moved with Shay, as if he had no care in the world or could truly be accepted by any person and any species. The sense of alienation must have been excruciating, as – with every glance – he saw how easy such communication and socialisation came to others, while every day was a struggle for him just to be understood. It must have been heartbreaking to constantly try to do what was ‘right’, only to be called ‘wrong’.

“You’re a good man, Keith,” said Allura.

The silence between them was comfortable, but large enough to create a space. Allura reached out slowly and took Keith’s hand in hers, where he gave a visible jump in surprise, before he looked directly to her with a soft blush to his cheeks. It was nice to share in such a small intimacy, as his hand felt warm in hers and she enjoyed the touch of another, and – in time – she hoped that he would trust her enough to share in more.

“Am I interrupting something?” Pidge asked.

Allura and Keith pulled apart at the interruption. It was a shock to be caught in such a pose, but – as Allura turned around with a quick spin – she saw Pidge standing at the entrance to the room with a large grin and arms folded. The other woman seemed not to mind the scene before her, but Allura felt herself blush nonetheless at having been caught in a romantic position with a man she held a great deal of respect toward. Keith took a step back, as he folded his arms across his chest and looked down at the controls with an impassive look.

“Ah, not quite,” said Allura.

“Okay, well, first up: you guys make a cute couple.” Pidge adjusted her glasses. “Second up: we are all good to go get Lance and Coran when you guys are ready, assuming your conversation didn’t bring up any reason why reason why not? I did a little bit of research, too, seems there may be a resistance camp where Shiro’s communicator last gave out a reading.”

“That’s wonderful news!” Allura clapped her hands together. “I suggest that we go at once, after we retrieve Lance and Coran, and – if the gods do indeed smile upon us – it may well be that Shiro has fallen under the protection of the Resistance. This may be our chance!”

“Do you really think a resistance group can turn the tide?” Keith asked.

“Only one way to find out,” chirped Pidge. “Let’s go!”

 

 

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

The city was fascinating in structure.

There was a labyrinth system of caves and tunnels running through the mountain, with enough space that some ‘streets’ were lined with shops and stalls, and – as Shiro walked through them – the various species selling wares almost made him feel at home. The only downside was the severe lack of light, but there were gas lamps periodically set into the stone that allowed his eyes just enough light to see ahead without trouble. It was still a strain.

The native population appeared to find even the minimal lighting uncomfortable, which – judging by their albino-like appearance and strange clicking sounds – seemed to be due to the fact that they evolved from a species that lived in absolute darkness. It was difficult not to worry as they travelled deeper through the tunnels. There was no missing how most non-natives congregated and resided near to the entrances, where they flattened the stone outside into patios and gardens and various meeting spaces, while the natives resided further inside.

Shiro overheard one of the Galra mentioning vast caverns at the further end of the tunnels, uncharted and impossible to navigate without echolocation and a photographic memory, and they gave a loud laugh when Shiro stumbled forward close to the entrance of such a cavern. There was a snort of derision from Sendak. He said something under his breath, but Shiro was too taken in by the darkness ahead of him . . . absolute and almost corporeal . . .

“Be careful, Paladin. No one can rescue you in there.”

Shiro listened as Sendak’s footsteps faded out of earshot. The darkness was unlike anything he ever experienced in his lifetime, while his eyes refused to adjust and even felt strained in the search for some point of light, and all the while there came strange fluttering noises and clicking sounds that echoed about from all directions. It was almost hypnotic, until – as he peered deep in concentration – two red eyes appeared before him and something screeched loud enough to cause him physical pain. He flinched away and held his hands over his ears.

It was only when he pulled his hands away that he saw it: blood.

The scream had caused his ears to bleed with the intensity, which was enough reason to send him stumbling after Sendak in an absolute panic. He caught up to the man before a wall in an abandoned corridor; the place was filled with rubble and stray rocks, while crates and dead rodents lined the far corners, and there were even scratch marks on the walls made by some sort of three-fingered creature. Shiro drew in a sharp breath and followed Sendak’s gaze.

“You said you would take me to the Resistance,” said Shiro.

There was a lot scoff from Sendak, who kept his eyes upon the wall. Shiro was left to wipe away the blood from his ears with the edge of his sleeve, while he scanned the wall for any signs of a secret message, but there was nothing to distinguish this stone from any other stone around them. He began to feel his heart race in a nervous beat, as he looked about for any sign of a person that could help him should the need arise, and – as Sendak pressed an open hand against the wall – he flinched out of habit and concern.

“This location was not easy for me to uncover,” said Sendak.

“What location? An alley composed of garbage?”

Sendak rolled his eyes; the cybernetic eye was eerie in its movement, giving a soft glow that was welcome in the darkness, and his lips parted to reveal the tips of his canine teeth, something that Shiro had long learnt to associate with aggression and not with a ‘smile’. It pulled at the scar around his eye, making it all the deeper, and his hand pressed against the stone with such violence that Shiro flinched away once more. There was a moment of shame, as Shiro realised – even after all this time – he still felt that fear as strongly as ever.

There soon followed a line roughly the shape of a door. Shiro realised that a chunk of the rock was being slid forward by an inch, and – as he stared in surprise – the rock was then slid with great difficulty to the right side. Sendak struggled with just one arm, but he was strong and managed to reveal the hidden doorway with great skill. There was little time to admit the skill behind such a seamless technology, as he was soon dragged inside a brightly lit room.

It took a while for his eyes too adjust.

The lighting took a mostly purple hue, while the walls were layered with a black metal, and it was clear that those inside were trying to replicate the feel of the Galra ships, which must have been influenced by Galra culture and preferences, and Shiro no longer felt his eyes strained with the struggle to see through shadows. There were tables and screens all around the room, filled with schematics and technology and various pieces of equipment, while – through a distant door – Shiro caught sight of a room filled with ‘nests’ not unlike Sendak’s, except each one was personalised and some distance from its neighbours.

“Sendak, you brought a companion,” said a voice.

Shiro recognised the sound and its owner. It was clearly Thace, the Resistance member that came to talk to Sendak some days previous, only the image of him was far unlike anything that Shiro could have imagined. The Galra man appeared slight in comparison to Sendak, while his face was far longer and his ears less pronounced, and yet his broad chest reminded Shiro of someone whose face escaped him, like a memory that wouldn’t quite connect to the reality around him. Thace seemed solemn and frustrated by their presence.

“Your man said there was a place for Shiro,” said Sendak.

“Indeed, a place for Shiro, but no place for you.” Thace signalled for the door to be shut. “I suspected that you held a hostage in your rooms, but I am glad you gave into our request for his release. I did not wish to force your hand. It would have only brought unwanted attention to us both, as such I appreciate the favour in releasing him to our protection.”

“You sound so thoughtful, Thace. Is there room here for two?”

“Your sarcasm is as unwanted as you, Sendak.”

Sendak gave a snort and shook his head.

The other Galra – and few other species, unrecognisable to Shiro – surrounded them, with weapons pointed directly at the chest of Sendak. It was an act of intimidation, made clear by the way the door was locked behind them, and the remote location meant very little chance of anyone happening to wander through the area to hear any cries for help. Shiro struggled to keep track of the many lights and muttered complaints, until he locked his gaze upon Thace and realised just how deep the distrust ran between Sendak and the Resistance.

It would be easy to step forward and side with the Resistance, as they took Sendak into likely custody or forced him back to his cave near to the entrance, but something churned inside his stomach and threatened to expel itself from his body. He felt that same panic as when he ejected Sendak from the castle, that adrenaline rush that controlled his actions and erased all sensible thought from his mind, and then – as if on cue – Sendak touched his shoulder . . .

. . . _Shiro was yanked violently backward._

_He fell flat against the floor; the elbow of his organic arm hit the metal, while his back twisted in an awkward manner, and the absolute pain distracted him from any retaliation. It disorientated him. Shiro felt his eyes drift in and out of focus, as he rolled over and fell into the strange bedding that belonged to Sendak. The bedding consisted of a circular drop that went a good foot or two into the floor, in a way that reminded him of pools back on Earth, and was surrounded and covered with blankets, cushions and throws._

_Shiro recalled one of the prisoners once relaying that these beds were effectively built as a nest, with each one heavily personalised to the Galra in question, but – regardless of person – almost all curled up inside the circle and slept in a foetal position. It was strange to think of them as human, especially when the sheets and blankets smelled so strongly of Sendak, as if they were soaked in his scent, and for a moment he began to fear the worst._

_‘Is this the “audience” you wanted?’ Shiro spat._

_‘I did not force you into my bed,’ said Sendak. ‘You rolled yourself into there.’_

_Shiro held back a groan of frustration, as he struggled to pull himself upright. The base of the bed – or nest, as seemed a more accurate word – was the softest mattress that Shiro had ever experienced, especially in comparison to the hard and dirty floors in the cells. He eventually found himself on all fours, as he crawled to the edge of the nest. Sendak came over to him and knelt down on the backs of his heels, with arms rested on his knees._

_‘My, you even present yourself to me,’ continued Sendak._

_‘Did you call me here just to torment me?’_

_‘On the contrary,’ said Sendak, ‘I called you here to receive your gratitude.’_

_Shiro pulled himself out of the nest and onto his feet; he stood in front of Sendak and looked down at him with absolute disgust, until he could control himself no longer and threw the first punch. He instantly regretted his action. No sooner had he aimed his blow, Sendak grabbed him by the wrist and threw him against the floor, with arm twisted behind his back and face pressed against the cold metal, and he began to feel a shred of sheer terror. It was possible to defend himself, but it would only result in his execution._

_The stories of the prisoners echoed in his mind, while the propositions of the guards came back to the forefront of his mind, and the feeling of Sendak pressed against him was enough to hasten his breathing and make his blood run cold. He grew dizzy and light-headed, sure that he would faint unable to fight, but the Galra commander let go of him and moved with great speed, until Shiro realised that he was now pressed against the wall, arms folded._

_‘What do you notice about the prisoners here, Champion?’_

_Shiro rolled onto his back and struggled to breathe. He laughed despite himself, lest he begin to cry in shame, as he realised that – for the first time in his life – he experienced true anxiety and depression, with his life ripped away and replaced by slavery as a captive. The stars outside the window gave a little light about the room, while the purple lighting provided the rest, and yet Sendak appeared cast in shadow and seemed apart from everything. Shiro forced himself onto his feet and stood facing the other man._

_‘That by the time I learn their names, they die,’ admitted Shiro._

_‘Only the gladiators die.’ Sendak gave a dangerous smirk. ‘We removed that friend of yours into the labour camp, while that other creature you befriended was taken as a personal slave to another commander on ship, and – as you may have noticed – we have many usages for the slaves we bring aboard. It would be a waste to kill them on a whim.’_

_‘So the ones that disappear . . . you take them for other purposes?’_

_‘Not me personally, of course, but otherwise the answer would be “yes”. The slaves in the labour camp or gladiatorial ring have a freedom you may not recognise, such as to socialise with one another and to even proposition or bargain with their captors, but with such freedoms comes great risk. No Galra would complain should you be beaten for disobedience, while – on rare occasion – we have received word of sexual abuse.’_

_Shiro tried not to visibly flinch. The fact was that Galra soldiers were free to ‘seduce’ the prisoners as they saw fit, but to abuse them or coerce them was considered a breach of trust and an offence worthy of prosecution. It reassured many prisoners at first . . ._ at first . . . _they soon learnt that it was virtually impossible to prove such acts were non-consensual, while many guards took the opportunity to ‘claim’ the prisoner they abused for a personal servant or slave, and those prisoners were never seen again. He had been lucky so far._

_‘You technically belong to me,’ said Sendak._

_The words hung heavy in the air between them. Shiro stumbled backward, as he reached out with his organic arm in search of something to balance himself, but instead he fell upon the wall opposite Sendak and slid down onto the floor. He felt light-headed, confused, and somewhat nauseous. Too many fears and assumptions jumped to his mind, as he looked to his cybernetic arm and realised that all freedom and rights to his body were gone._

_‘You have to be joking,’ whispered Shiro._

_‘On the contrary, I am most serious.’ Sendak gave a smirk. ‘My sadism knows_ some _limits; for example, shall we look to that scar upon your nose? It’s what you may call a brand. It marks you as belonging to a Galra commander. A shame you never earned a scar like it in battle, else you may have inadvertently earned some self-sufficiency.’_

_‘You’re lying, Sendak. If you were telling the truth, what would be to stop the prisoners from scarring each other or themselves? A simple scar gives you the right to own a person? There’s too many variable, too many flaws! If that’s all it took then -’_

_‘Do not look a gift-horse in the mouth, Champion. It is the sole reason why the other guards have refrained from beating you too strongly, as well as the reason why no other has claimed a prize such as yourself, and why your amputated limb was replaced with Galra technology, as most other prisoners would have been forced to battle with their disadvantage. No prisoner would dare self-inflict such a scar to gain their freedom, trust me.’_

_Sendak moved away from the wall to retrieve a computer tablet. It was located near to the bed, where a selection of mechanical tools and technological items lay, and Shiro got the strange impression this was a man that liked to relax when he worked on his hobbies or even items possibly that were related to his career. The Galra moved a furred finger over the screen, until an image appeared in high-definition, and he turned the screen so that Shiro could see for himself. It was a gruesome and gory sight – a warning._

_‘Only those with a claim can make a claim,’ said Sendak._

_‘So I – I belong to you? I belong to no one!’_

_‘Ironically, I also belong to you, Champion.’ Sendak gave a primal growl. ‘You destroyed my eye and forced me to abide this cybernetic implant. This scar marks me as yours. Your scar marks you as mine. I daresay this makes us even, but it is my claim alone that protects you in this Empire. Remember that. Remember, as you owe me. You owe me your life.’_

_‘Why are you telling me this? Why should I even care?’_

_‘Perhaps because a certain guard has been propositioning my property.’_

_There was a tapping sound, as claw struck screen, and suddenly a video began to play. It looked like a live-stream from another part of the ship, where a tall and dangerous looking man passed some sort of judgement, and – with a flick of his hand – the guard that had offered Shiro ‘an hour’ of his time was being dragged away by several other guards. He looked panicked and highly alert and begged for his life over and over._

_‘I saved your chastity,’ said Sendak. ‘I also saved your life.’_

_‘So you called me here to tell me that I owe you?’_

_‘You owe me your continued existence . . .’_

_. . ._ Shiro pulled away from Sendak.

He found himself somewhere between Sendak and Thace, as he bent over and clutched his head with both hands, and he prayed that he could force the flashbacks at bay with serious concentration and meditation. The pain was unbearable. It pierced into his skull like a knife, until the room felt as hot and humid as the holding cells back upon the ship, where dozens of men and women crowded together in desperation and despair. He struggled to breathe.

Thace took a step toward him, but Shiro could not abide to be near another person. It took all his strength to raise a hand and signal Thace to keep his distance, before Shiro wandered over to a long and high worktable centre of the room, and – as he pressed his hands flat upon the surface – the cold metal cooled his skin and grounded his emotions. There were various plans scattered about the tabletop, while machines beeped and whirred all around him, and he slowed his breathing and centred himself. He looked at Thace from the corner of his vision.

“Sendak’s . . . Sendak is no threat.”

There was a sound of amusement from Sendak. Thace simply continued to stare down the other man, until he allowed a hissed exhale of breath, and – with a long and awkward pause – he eventually raised his hand and allowed his men to lower their weapons. Sendak moved to join Shiro by his side, but immediately weapons were drawn again and pointed directly upon him until he stopped. It was clear that no one wanted to trust him around sensitive material, while his even knowing their location was a risk in itself. Thace moved beside Shiro.

“You need not fear him,” said Thace.

“I know.” Shiro gave a nervous smile. “I wouldn’t go so far as to say we can trust him, at least not with anything that could give us away, but he did protect me on the Galra ship. He also staved off violence or executions unless absolutely necessary, and – like you already know – that’s not something easily said of your kind. We owe him something.”

“Very well, we will refrain from taking him prisoner. In the meantime, we need to discuss our plans to decolonise the universe from Zarkon’s control. We have already carved out a safe space, but we need to do more in order to build our numbers.”

Thace touched a tablet nearby Shiro, which brought up a familiar image. It was a map of a galaxy, which – with a few more touches – expanded onto five holographic screens above them and showed a large section of the universe. It took several hand movements to zoom out enough to show the whole universe, at which point Shiro noticed the red parts were under Galra control and the blue parts were under the ‘Voltron Alliance’ or neutral places. The blue section was perhaps one twentieth of the map, in a small crescent shape.

“I hoped that you could help us, as we helped you,” said Thace.

Shiro pushed himself away from the table and looked about the room. It was clear that Sendak was being ‘quarantined’ near to the door, where he accepted the treatment with a degree of patience, but the look in his eyes was dark and judgemental. The rest of the people milled about with various chores and activities, yet none appeared to hear or react to the news that Thace somehow helped Shiro. It was a curious statement.

“How did you help me?” Shiro asked.

“On the Galra ship, we let down the shields so you could escape.” Thace closed down the map of the universe. “I also was involved with the programming of your cybernetic arm, so I hacked the system to allow you to access Galra technology. You did not think it odd how you escaped the first time? Prisoners often aren’t given keys to all locks.”

“So you helped me? All this time . . . I wasn’t alone?”

There was no change to Thace’s expression, but Shiro was forced to look away from him. The realisation left him with mixed emotions; he looked about the room in search of some confirmation or denial, but his sight fell yet again upon Sendak and the other man looked back at him so that their eyes were locked upon one another. The yellow of his iris was all too familiar, albeit tinged with curiosity and an iota of confusion, and his arm dangled almost too innocently by his side, as if he made a show of having no weapon or device.

“Now it is time that I ask for your help,” said Thace. “Zarkon seeks to move to Earth, to retrieve the quintessence there and lure the Lions to act in defence. If we can help you to make contact with your companions, you could reform Voltron and save the universe once and for all, destroying Zarkon and allowing us to overthrow him. Will you?”

Shiro snapped his head back around. He looked to Thace and blinked several time, until he smiled warmly and unclenched his hands, finally aware that he had made a fist throughout their discussion without even being fully away. The memory of the map weighed heavily in his mind, as he turned to look at where it once occupied now empty space, and he realised that the fate of the universe rested primarily in the hands of the Paladins.

“I’ll do my best,” promised Shiro.

 

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

“You need to aim lower!”

Lance rolled his eyes at Coran, who gripped the back of his seat. The hands dug into the cushion like sharp claws, while his back was bent and his head hovered inches above Lance, and it was easy to feel each and every breath from the older man. It was difficult to concentrate through the cries, as if Coran couldn’t trust him to fly through a small armada of enemy ships and out of the atmosphere, but they were already close to escape.

He looked ahead and caught sight of the castle. It was a relief that Allura had received their co-ordinates, more so to finally see a familiar sight, and he flexed his hands around the controls of the Lion, as he licked his lips in concentration and drove forward. There was a jolt from behind, as one of the beams from an enemy ship nearly struck them. Coran lurched forward from the thrust, forced to wrap his arms around Lance’s neck for balance, which – with another roll of his eyes – caused Lance to pull sharply to the right.

Coran held even tighter, as he let out a cry, and Lance managed to pull a manoeuvre that was nearly impossible to put into words. The enemy ships were soon out of sight, while they pulled into the castle with a burst of absolute speed, and – with a brief adjustment of the controls – an image of Pidge came onto screen, as she yelled at Lance for taking wild risks and flying like a madman. He merely gave a v-sign and winked.

“You can let go now, Coran,” said Lance.

The older man gave a strange sound, but eventually pulled away with a groan. He looked a little green at a glance, until Lance righted the ship and managed to maintain a steady path, and soon some colour returned to his cheeks. Coran bristled his moustache, as he scrunched his nose and ran his hand underneath with an offhand gesture, and soon he held his hands behind his back and stood tall to the side of Lance, as if nothing had occurred out of the ordinary in the least. Lance smiled warmly and let his eyes linger for a while.

“Seriously, I can’t believe you doubted my piloting skills.”

“Well, they’re much more impressive from an _outside_ perspective,” replied Coran. “If it’s all the same to you, Lance, I think I’ll pass on riding as a passenger in future. I – er – think I’ll go for a lie-down once we get back on the ship proper . . . feeling a little light-headed.”

Lance gave a small pout, as they pulled into the ship. The landing was smooth and comfortable, while his heart raced in anticipation of seeing his friends once more, but there was something a little hurtful at knowing Coran disliked how he piloted the Lion, especially when he took great pride in his ability to pilot. He shook his head, in an attempt to get the thoughts out of his head, and looked to Coran with a smile again.

“Hey, I got us out of there, didn’t I? Now Allura can wormhole us to safety.”

There was a sound of amusement from Coran. He turned with a smile in turn and pinched the corner of his moustache in a habit that was impossible to break, before he cocked his head to the side and looked at Lance in a long moment of silence, until both men looked away out of a strange sense of embarrassment. Coran said with a great deal of kindness:

“It was certainly most skilful how you dodged those beams.”

“Thanks,” said Lance. “I appreciate that.”

* * *

The outside area was beautiful.

Shiro felt a chill, as the two suns fell low against the horizon. The forecourt was located not too far from the residence of Sendak, perhaps a few minutes walk at most, and the arched entrance into the caves loomed behind him as a reminder of how different this planet was in comparison to Earth. There were several market-stalls and small camps by the arch, while the forecourt itself was left mostly bare to accommodate groups and socialising, and yet – all around the edges – the market stalls stood as a testament to day-to-day necessities.

The sky shone with an array of colours, mostly between red and white, and the paved stoned underfoot looked all the darker with the receding light, so that the forecourt almost became an entirely new space, one unlike anything seen before. It was empty outside. The natives would not leave the caves until absolute nightfall, while the rest of the population retreated inside to rest or sleep or work alone, which left only Shiro and Sendak.

Sendak sat at the far end of the forecourt, with legs over the edge, as he overlooked the vast landscape beyond, and he showed no sign of hearing Shiro walk over to him. There was a breeze that rustled his fur, while his one arm braced himself with its hand upon the stone, and it was strange to see such a man observe the world beyond, as if he held even an iota of appreciation for nature and aesthetics. There was nothing but stone in sight, along with a few patches of greenery and occasionally small bodies of water, but it was beautiful nonetheless.

“I didn’t picture you as the quiet type,” said Shiro.

Shiro walked over to the edge of the forecourt; he tried not to look too much at the steepness of the incline, as the drop was almost vertical and difficult to fully comprehend, and it gave him a sense of vertigo to ponder too long upon the drop. He sat quietly beside Sendak, where he placed his hands flat against the stone edge and gripped for security. The cool stone provided a small comfort and grounded him, even as his fingers traced strange and incoherent patterns along the side, and he gave a long sigh in thought.

“I noticed that you didn’t stay long,” Shiro continued.

“There was little reason to stay.” Sendak gave a noise almost like a purr, but it was deep and revealed his fangs with curled lips. “I have better things to do than to be excluded from your talks, while I have better things to do than to _watch_ you talk. I am content here.”

They sat in silence for a long moment. Shiro looked to Sendak, only to see that the older man refused to make eye-contact and stared ahead with a great deal of poise, and Shiro bit his lip and carefully considered how best to continue the conversation. There was an element of fear, as he felt his heart race and his mouth run dry, but they sat as something close to equals given their circumstances, which only added to the awkwardness between them.

“I am surprised you noticed me missing,” muttered Sendak.

“You sounds almost . . . depressed.”

“I am honoured, Paladin, that you would credit me with depth of emotion.” Sendak gave a short scoff and smiled. “No, I am not depressed, but I do miss the feeling of being a part of something larger than myself, as well as the security that comes with belonging to a group. I do not blame you or the Resistance for distrusting me, but my life is also at risk.”

Shiro drew in a deep breath and looked away. The wind picked up speed and brought a severe chill, something not felt within the caves, and he began to miss the castle with its heating and warm sheets and hot beverages. He clenched his hands into tight fists, until nails dug into flesh, and felt his eyes narrow as they focussed on how the sky began to turn into a wonderful shade of purple and blue. Sendak said nothing. It was enough for Shiro to hear how his heart raced and every swallow of saliva, as he fought back and his anger and snapped:

“You’re worried about your life?”

“I failed Zarkon, as such he will kill me,” said Sendak.

“You might not have killed people directly, but indirectly -?” Shiro shook his head. “You watched the slaves forced to fight to the death, you tortured me and forced this arm on me, and you fought for Zarkon all this time! You have a nerve to act like the victim here.”

“Did I claim to be a victim?” Sendak turned to watch Shiro with a stern stare. “You amuse me, Paladin, as if your kind have a monopoly on morality. Do you realise how many lives _you_ have taken from our people? They were not all drones on the ships you destroyed. I saw how you sliced through ship after ship, unaware of the soldiers onboard that fought only as they feared for the lives of their families should they refuse . . .”

“Don’t. Don’t even pretend that –”

“I knew one of the men that died on such a ship. He had a mate, two children between them, and he worked for Zarkon under the promise of great wealth to support his family, although I do suspect the real motivation lay under the threat of their death should he refuse a ‘gracious’ offer by Zarkon. I wonder what shall become of his family now.”

Shiro shuddered despite himself. The air felt chilled, colder than anything experienced on Earth, and he realised that the cave-like dwellings were the perfect protection from the harsh winds that began to pick up speed during the night, until – in a few hours – they would become a cacophony of howls. He drew in deep and slow breaths, adamant on staving off the start of an anxiety attack, although his mind reeled with visions of prisoners who died in captivity, as well as the memories of those loved ones left who grieved in their absence.

“You’ve made your point,” said Shiro in a cold manner.

They sat in silence for a long time. The idea that the soldiers on board the ships could have family, possibly that they could even be ‘prisoners’ themselves in a sense, was an idea that never crossed his mind since escaping from their ships. He listened to the winds as they grew in strength, relished in how it felt to have fresh air upon his skin, and soon he heard a long and hissed breath from Sendak, as the other man clenched his organic hand.

“I know I did you wrong,” said Sendak.

“Do you even regret anything you did to me?”

“No,” he admitted. “I will gladly admit that the sadism was mine alone, enough that – if we are forced to be equals in this place – I would gladly engage in it further with your consent, but I would also act that way without your consent should our situation reverse once more. That being said, I am not above admitting to fear about my future. No one wishes to suffer.”

“I know what it’s like to be unable to return home.” Shiro gave a sigh and looked to his cybernetic hand with a frown. “I know what it’s like to fear the people who are supposed to protect you, to know you’ll be imprisoned or worse on your return, but –”

“Hmm. Your people imprisoned you when you sought for freedom.”

“I escaped your cell and ended up in one of theirs . . .”

Shiro gave a soft chuckle, as he smiled despite himself. He could practically feel the restraints around his arms, as the smell of leather penetrated his senses, and he could see the judgement in their eyes so clear that he nearly relived it again. They wouldn’t listen to him, even as he struggled and fought, while the needles and drugs were always in sight, and it was a constant reminder of the experimentations forced upon him during his time in Galra captivity. At least, with the Galra, they were honest about their cruelty.

He moved his cybernetic arm into his lap, where he opened and closed the fist in mild contemplation, and yet it stood as a stark reminder of the traumas he endured and the changes that took place within himself. There would be no forgetting the torture. There was no forgetting his connection to the Galra. Shiro knew what cruelty lay in the hearts of the soldiers who relished in their positions, as well as why they were chosen for high ranks.

“I understand why you’re afraid,” said Shiro.

“Does mean I now have your sympathy? How nice.”

“Enough with the sarcasm.” Shiro let out a hiss of breath. “I don’t believe you joined Zarkon because you were forced, because I think you loved every minute that you could indulge in your sadism, but I know you can never go back and now you’re afraid about the future. You’re afraid because – no matter who wins – you’ll never be on the winning side. The Resistance won’t trust you, while Zarkon would kill you. I understand that much.”

“I see, so you wish to gloat over me? My, I am impressed. You are every bit the monster that I believed you to be . . . you once gave into your urges by expelling me into the vast expanse of space, but what will you do now? Strangle me with your Galra arm in a fit of irony?”

“I’m not the kind of person that gloats. I – I want to offer you a second-chance, if you will take it and swear to constant surveillance under the Princess’ eye . . . just until we can trust you, _if_ we can trust you. I’m not like you. I’m not -! I’m not a monster . . . I _know_ there’s some good in you, but I guess the question is whether you want to redeem yourself.”

The sky was a dark shade of blue, with hints of violet throughout, and one of the suns was completely out of sight. There was no sign of discomfort from Sendak, but that was perhaps due to the insulation of the thick fur all over his body, and – for the first time – Shiro wondered whether the armour and dark clothing was ever a nuisance on the warm ships. Shiro could feel the goosebumps all over his skin, even beneath the skin-tight jumper and trousers, and he shivered, as he wrapped his arms around himself for warmth. Sendak said:

“You are not the mate I would have chosen for myself.”

The words cut Shiro like a knife. There was an instinctual part of him that wanted to run, maybe to find somewhere warm and maybe to be free from such a heavy accusation, but he simply swallowed hard and drew himself to sit fully upright. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, before he looked to Sendak and saw that the other man was still observing the landscape with an odd form of indifference. The fur bristled with the wind.

He raised a hand to the scar upon his nose and cheeks; it was somewhat raised, despite what first glances often told people, but smooth to the touch and somewhat numb to sensation, and yet it served well to remind him of his place in Galra society. Shiro allowed his hand to fall away, before he followed Sendak’s gaze across the landscape before them. The stars forming in the sky were unrecognisable. It was a beautiful night, although the shrill calls from the native population began to echo out far below, where he assumed they had another exit.

“By human standards, we aren’t ‘mates’,” said Shiro.

“Let us agree to disagree,” teased Sendak.

Shiro drew in a sharp breath and clenched his fists. He did not know what ‘mates’ were to the Galra, but he was certain that Sendak was teasing him with the information to purposely rile him, a fact made worse by the fact that – yes – they technically belonged to one another. It was something that likely saved him in captivity, but he refused to forgive Sendak simply because things could have been worse without the scar. There was a sound from behind them of footsteps, slow against the strength of the wind, and Shiro slowly stood to his feet.

 _“Shiro, we have word from Princess Allura_ ,” called Thace.

Those few words provided a great comfort. Shiro felt his shoulders sag, as he gave a wide smile in sheer relief and looked to Thace with a soft expression. The Galra kept a stoic façade, unlike the others of his kind, and his expression betrayed nothing about the communication between the Resistance and Allura. Shiro stepped forward toward him, where he nodded in acknowledgement of the other’s presence, and asked eagerly:

“What did she say? Is everyone okay?”

“Your team is reported to be in full health,” said Thace in a quiet voice. “We assured Princess Allura that you were safe, but alerted her to the presence of Sendak. We have arranged for them to land in a safe and obscured part of the planet, so as to avoid the attention of Zarkon, and the meeting is scheduled for tomorrow. I have arranged a place for you to sleep in our headquarters, but you are also welcome to return with Sendak.”

“I – that’s . . . thank you.” Shiro ran a hand over his face. “I appreciate you offering me a place to stay, but I think I’ll stay with Sendak . . . just tonight. If it isn’t an inconvenience, perhaps send someone by periodically to check in on us? Just to be safe.”

“Of course, I planned that in any case. No harm shall befall you.”

“Thank you,” said Shiro. “Thanks.”

Thace nodded in return, but his eyes locked upon Sendak. Sendak simply gave a snort, as he struggled to stand to his feet with just one arm and the strong winds against him, but the way the two men stared each other down spoke volumes of the mistrust between them. It was not long before Thace returned to the caved city, where he was out of sight and out of mind, and Shiro felt a familiar stab of fear at being left alone with Sendak once more.

The wind was strong enough to knock Shiro slightly off balance, while his white streak of hair blew wildly to the side and disturbed his peripheral vision, and – as Sendak walked on toward the arched entrance – he followed behind in a way that reminded him too much of his time spent subservient upon the ships. It would be dangerous to humanise and underestimate Sendak, but it would also be cruel and hypocritical to pretend that he was beyond redemption, and Shiro could only pause by the arch to look out over the landscape one last time.

“It is dangerous for our kind outside during nightfall,” warned Sendak.

Shiro gave a long sigh and followed him inside.

 


	9. Chapter 9

“Coran! Lance!”

Allura ran over to the two men. There was a sense of absolute relief, as she threw her arms around Coran’s shoulders and held tight onto him. He felt strong and firm to the touch, like an anchor in a sea of chaos, and she missed him both as her closest friend and the only connection to her kind. It was difficult to ignore the slight smell of sweat and dirt, but that could not be helped when he was forced to camp out in enemy territory.

It brought tears to her eyes to pull away, even as Coran kept his hands upon her elbows and gave a beautiful smile in return to provide reassurance. Allura held onto his arms in turn, so that they remained in a platonic embrace, but the distance between their bodies allowed for them to observe one another for a long moment. There was a hint of sadness in his purple eyes, although Allura knew that he was concerned with making sure that she was okay, and – as her eyes moved over his body – his eyes moved over hers in turn.

“Princess, are you hurt at all?” Coran asked.

“Not at all, my friend.” Allura let go to wipe away a tear. “We landed with safety upon the Balmera, but there was some damage to the castle that prevented us from tracing the location of the lions. It was such a relief when you contacted us with your whereabouts! We have also been able to trace the location of Shiro, but there are some . . . complications.”

“Complications?” Lance raised an eyebrow, as he stood beside Coran. “Okay, I know I might not be as natural a leader as Shiro or as knowledgeable as Pidge, but what’s stopping us from swooping in right now and picking him up? Like, why wait and stuff?”

“Oh, Lance! I’m so happy that you have returned safely, too!”

“Really? Well, I’m totally – _ah_!”

Allura dove upon Lance and held him close; her froze at first, as if he found it far less natural than Coran, but soon gave into the embrace and held her in turn. The hold did not last as long as it did for her eldest living friend, but – as she pulled away – she saw a borderline arrogant smirk upon Lance that made her raise an eyebrow and smile in turn. It was clear that his usual flirtatious attitude had not completely left him, which was reassuring in itself, as it meant that Lance and Coran had not suffered too much during their absence. Lance gave a large wink.

“It’s good to see you, too, Princess,” chirped Lance.

They stood not far into the control room, as the vast expanse of space lay before them. It seemed that Allura had broken the dam, as – at once – there was a flood of affection from Hunk and Pidge, who ran to their friend and began to fuss about him. Allura caught snippets of stories that seemed exaggerated for effect, while Keith walked quietly over and stood not far behind her, as he strove to listen without it being obvious that he listened.

It felt good to have Keith so close. There was a small rustle of sound from his red-and-white jacket, while he kept his arms folded across his chest, and – like so many of his interactions with his team – it was clear he wanted to be closer to them and feared being closer with the same breath. Allura stepped back so as to stand beside him, while Coran kept close to Lance and observed as the Paladins reacquainted themselves after their time apart, and it was easy to lose herself in the moment as her hand rested against her chest.

They all remained under the glow of the stars, safely away via the wormhole to a part of the galaxy free from Galra rule, and yet there were a few spaces in her eyesight where once planets would have given a soft glow much like the stars around them. It reminded her of Altea. It reminded her that Shiro was at risk with Sendak. It caused her hand to reach out of sheer instinct to touch upon Keith’s, where she held it tight and felt his warmth.

“Huh?” Lance stopped and asked: “Are – Are you two a _couple_?”

Allura gave a small jump, as her hand instinctively opened around Keith’s hand. It was difficult to know how to react to such a question; she raised her free hand high to her chin, as she made a half-fist and allowed her finger to hover above her lip, and her other hand returned to grasp tightly upon Keith. There was a visible pout from Lance, while Allura felt a blush upon her cheeks and noticed how Keith looked off to the side. The silence dragged on between them all, until Pidge gave a soft chuckle and Hunk made a strange noise.

“Aw, man, how did _Keith_ end up getting the girl,” muttered Lance.

“Ah, well, don’t you worry, Lance,” said Coran with a half-smile. “I’m sure you’ll find the perfect girl or guy for you some day soon, maybe when you’re least looking for it! I must say this _is_ a bit of a surprise, but I dare say that they do make a good couple.”

The older man clapped his hand upon Lance’s shoulder; he gave a visible squeeze, which seemed to instinctively cause Lance to relax, and – as his shoulders sagged and back hunched – his frustrated frown turned into a somewhat saddened smile. Allura saw the way that Coran stepped protectively closer to Lance, but knew that it would be some time before Lance would be able to understand just why he would act in such a manner.  

“We haven’t discussed our relationship yet,” admitted Keith.

“Yeah,” added Pidge, “but we’ve seen how you guys look at one another!”

“It’s cute,” continued Hunk. “It’s like those big doe eyes you see in old romance movies. You half-expect a big serenade or something, but nope -! It’s just those adorable little silences and staring adoringly at one another! Ah, true love . . . huh, speaking of ‘love’, Lance looks –”

“Ah, er, yes -!” Allura clapped her hands together. “Let’s go sit down, shall we?”

“Splendid idea,” chirped Coran. “Let’s get moving.”

Lance, Pidge and Keith walked on ahead. It gave Allura a chance to look over to Hunk, who stood with hands behind his head and a somewhat confused expression, and – as she looked to him – she realised that he likely saw what she saw between Lance and Coran. The expression she wore was enough to speak her point without words, so that the realisation seemed to dawn on Hunk that perhaps Lance was not yet ready to confront such emotions, and so he gave a nervous smile and a nod of acknowledgement, as he walked away.

Hunk eventually looked around the control room. The three other Paladins were now close by the door, each one talking with such speed that one’s speech ran over the other’s, and they moved their hands so animatedly that Allura almost questioned whether the Earthlings could communicate through gestures alone. Hunk called out to them and ran after them as fast as his legs could carry, which left the Alteans alone for the first time in a long time.

“Is it that obvious?” Coran asked.

Allura gave a small jump, as she turned to look at Coran. He folded his arms across his chest, while his eyes watched after the small group with a raised eyebrow, and his lips were pulled into that typical half-smile that he so often wore when curious or amused. The ginger hair was mussed from time spent camped out so far away, while the whites of his uniform were dirtied and soiled, and she knew that he would long for a warm bath and deep sleep, which was not something she could fault him over. Allura gave a small chuckle and said:

“Not to Lance, but to the rest of us -?”

“Ah, I suppose that makes sense,” said Coran. “Our Lance isn’t exactly the quickest on the uptake, hmm? I remember his surprise when it came to Pidge and her identity . . . I simply thought it might be a little – well – _easier_ when it comes to himself.”

“Those can often be the hardest parts to perceive.” Allura bent her head with a smile. “My father once told me that the world in which we reside is the one in which we create, so we only see what we want to see . . . anything else would destroy the world as we know it. I think Lance has spent his life believing himself to be one thing, never realising that he could be another, but – in time – he may well realise his heart can open in unexpected ways.”

“King Alfor was a wise man, indeed.” Coran looked out to the stars. “Do you ever miss it? Altea? I wonder sometimes whether that’s why our Lance craves for affection, because he misses others of his kind and others to share his life. I know there are times where I certainly miss a hug or a kiss or even a kind word . . . it gets lonely. Ah, well, maybe that’s just me?”

“No, not at all . . . I hardly understand how they bear it, until I realise that there is always the chance they can return home. It is a gift I often envy them. Do you remember the music and the laughter? I still dream of it, before I awake and remember I shall never hear it again.”

“I suppose we can make new memories, yes? There’s always Keith.”

“Ah, and there is always Lance, too.”

Allura gave a small laugh behind her hand, as Coran flushed red. It was not often that she caught him in a state of embarrassment; he was the one who oversaw training, helped maintain the machinery, and even performed everyday tasks such as cooking and basic chores. Coran was often everything from a servant to a treasured friend, as well as everything in between, and he had seen the Paladins and herself at their worst and their best.

It was enough to make her question whom Coran turned to in times of need. True, he often spent time alone with Lance performing odd jobs or talking at length about their previous lives, but Allura worried whether that could be enough to stave off the possible depression that came from being the last of their kind. She reached out a hand and touched upon his shoulder, before letting it fall to his upper arm, and – as she gave a squeeze of reassurance – he gave a sniff and brushed his nose with a long finger, before he changed topic.

“How is Shiro?” Coran asked.

Allura smiled warmly, before she pulled up a map of the universe. The galaxy where Shiro currently resided was some distance away, enough to justify the use of a wormhole, but it was also a part of the galaxy known for Resistance activity and small terrorist cells. It was difficult to draw her eyes away, while she let go of Coran in order to swipe her hands across the control panel and erase the map from sight. There were too many uncertainties.

“He is safe,” said Allura.

“Ah, you sound a little uncertain there.”

Allura let her hand fall away from Coran; she clasped them before herself and lowered her head, until she felt his fingers upon her should and arm against her back, and she realised that she still had a paternal figure in her life, even if her father could no longer be with her. The touch was warm and reassured her, while she instinctively leaned into it and felt her eyes begin to water just slightly from emotion, and – from afar – she heard the laughter of Keith and Hunk echo about the corridors, while Lance yelled something in frustration.

“Is anything wrong, Princess Allura?” Coran asked.

“It seems that Shiro is with the Resistance,” said Allura. “This would be a good thing, but I am concerned as Sendak is with him. They say that Sendak landed on a far planet, after which he tracked Shiro using the lion, and – while he appears to be no immediate threat – there is a worry he may be using this to further Zarkon’s cause in some way.”

“Well, I will admit that’s a bit of a bother, but I think we ought to be more concerned with the fact the Black Lion still seems a wee bit loyal to Zarkon. What if the Paladins are unable to form Voltron? What if Zarkon gains control of the Black Lion?”

“We must do what we can to prevent that from happening.”

The laughter of the Paladins caused her to smile, even despite their situation, and she realised that there was always hope so long as there was always friendship. These were a people that knew the meaning of love and loyalty, that still held ethics and morals, and – through teamwork and dedication – they would defeat Zarkon using his weaknesses against him. It was disheartening that the Black Lion doubted Shiro, but it was always possible it sensed his self-doubt and clung to the owner more confident. That could be resolved with ease.

“I have faith in Shiro,” said Allura. “I once thought that Voltron was our last hope, but I see now that our hope rests within the Paladins. I know that Shiro can redeem himself with the Black Lion; it will only be time before he gains its full loyalty, after which we can defeat Zarkon together as a team. We will succeed, I know we will.”

They stood together in silence, as they looked out over the galaxy before them. The stars were bright and beautiful, while the nearby planet of Balmera represented a vast expanse of hope for the universe at large, and Allura thought back to Shay and her people, who never before imagined freedom and yet now knew – thanks to the Paladins – what freedom could be to them. Hunk was lucky to have found Shay. Coran smiled, as he spoke softly:

“We will succeed together, Princess Allura.”

Allura smiled warmly and nodded.

 


	10. Chapter 10

Sendak walked ahead of the group.

It was difficult to look away from him; the black suit he wore was skin-tight, but armless so that the fur over his remaining limb was on clear display, and the armour he once always wore – back when he was a commander for Zarkon – was entirely absent. The only familiar part of his outfit were the two thigh-high boots, made out of strong materials much like metal, and cast in orange and navy, to match the uniform to which they once belonged.

The feet of the boots were three-pronged to make way for clawed feet, and a part of Shiro wondered about the evolutionary purpose that they might have served. He could hardly envision a man like Sendak climbing trees or jumping from branch to branch, but then no one likely envisioned a human doing such things either, when their evolutionary ancestors were just as likely to share in such quirks. All he knew was that Sendak – in his current form – looked intimidating and powerful, even with just one arm loose by his side.

Thace and two of his men walked behind Shiro, who was already a few feet behind Sendak in turn, but they kept their weapons armed at the larger man with great accuracy. If this turned out to be a double-cross, he would most certainly be incapacitated or worse. The three Galra were in full armour; Shiro wondered whether they were hot with the added insulation upon their fur, as he was certainly warm in just his body suit and thin t-shirt for extra modesty.

“How far now until the rendezvous point?” Shiro asked.

There was a strange silence among the group. He heard what sounded like birds overhead, but what looked more like dinosaurs from the past, and he still doubted the ‘reassurance’ that such creatures were herbivores by nature. The forest was quite some distance from the caves, perhaps a good couple of hours of walking at most, and Shiro had almost forgotten how noisy nature could become, especially after having spent so long within the cave system.

He heard each and every twig and branch crunch underfoot, while the leaves above gave away the impression that autumn was coming close, and every breeze sent waves of leaves from the trees and onto the ground with small snapping noises. There were some wild animals running by not far from them, seemingly on two legs and with loud caws of greeting, and something was drilling a hole into a tree nearby, with a beak long enough to force its head at a strangely impossible angle. Shiro felt his body on edge.

“Only ten minutes by foot, at most,” said Sendak.

“We sent out a scout yesterday,” added Thace. “Sendak was not lying about the location of the Black Lion, while the technology used should keep it completely hidden from the Galra Empire, even with the newest equipment they may employ. It will not be long before Princess Allura and the Paladins join us, but the area seems safe enough. We should be fine.”

“We can’t afford to take any chances where Zarkon is concerned,” said Shiro in a quiet voice. “If this goes sour in any way, do the others back at base have a means of escape? They need to be able to retreat at a second’s notice, else this is all for naught. Are we safe?”

“All bases have been covered. We only need focus on the matter at hand.”

“That’s a relief, although you’ll have to forgive my doubts.”

Shiro forced a smile, as he looked behind to Thace. The Galra male appeared impassive, even as various types of vegetation brushed against him and different insects buzzed about him, and – as Shiro looked to him – he realised what a blessing and a curse their fur could become. It was clear the ‘mosquitoes’ couldn’t penetrate the dense fur to the skin beneath, but he had heard mutterings from one of the men about fleas that lurked in the dense undergrowth and various parts of the forest. It was enough to make Shiro itch in thought alone.

He picked up his pace and walked beside Sendak. There was no trouble with him during the night, while breakfast had been a silent affair with the Resistance members in their base, and yet – through the silence and tentative truce – he caught subtle gestures and mannerisms that betrayed Sendak’s anxiety. Shiro reached out to touch the furred arm, which was surprisingly soft to the touch and moved like liquid against his fingers, and it was an odd comfort . . .

. . . _‘Do you seek solace with a touch?’_

_Shiro gasped for breath upon the cold floor. He realised – as his back ached with deep lashes, cuts that caused the black fabric to cling to his skin – that he was clinging to the fur upon Sendak’s leg, much like a child upon a plush toy or security blanket. The fur was warm in a strange way, while it moved so strangely against his hand, nothing alike a dog or a cat, but more like the sensation of long and wet hair resting on the surface of bath-water –_

_‘Do you think this worth your friend’s transfer to the labour camp?’_

_‘I – I did what I had to do . . . to protect him,’ said Shiro._

_The leg pulled itself away, forcing his hand to fall to the floor. He still felt an almost ticklish sensation upon his palm, as the tactile memory lingered, and a part of him cursed as he recalled the prisoners’ conversations. The few that traded ‘favours’ with the guards spoke often and long, some revealing that to stroke another’s fur was an intimate gesture and –_

_‘You are too lost in thought for my liking.’_

_Shiro cried out in pain . . ._

_. . ._ the scars on his back ached.

Shiro barely noticed that they had stopped; the scars across his back burned with the memory, enough that his hand clenched into a fist and trapped the fur in small tufts between each finger, and his breaths came out in small bursts. The Black Lion was soon in sight, as majestic and inspiring as it was on their first meeting, but Shiro could not bring himself to let go and soon the forest began to spin around him. He felt dizzy and physically exhausted.

“Shiro,” said Thace. “Are you okay?”

“I – I’m fine, thank you.”

He let his hand slide away from Sendak. There was a strange look from the older man, although he knew from observation and experience that Shiro was prone to flashbacks, and there were also a few muttered comments from the two Galra that accompanied Thace, as they tried to ascertain just what the exact relationship was between the two men. It seemed to be common knowledge that he and Sendak were ‘mates’, but the Resistance had developed several theories from what he often overheard, none of which came close to the truth.

Sendak moved to stand alone beside a tree, just outside of the clearing in which the Lion was kept, and he folded his arm across his stomach and observed with a disinterested expression, while one of the men stood a few feet away and kept his weapon upon him. The other Resistance member kept beside Thace, who touched upon Shiro’s shoulder and nodded across the clearing to where the castle could be seen clear as day.

There – before it – stood the Paladins and Alteans.

Shiro felt all of his anxiety lift in an instant; he gave a warm smile and lifted his arms just slightly, as if in welcome of them, and felt a few tears break at the corner of his eyes. It was just a few seconds later before Pidge ran straight for him, as she jumped at him and hugged him so tightly that he struggled to breathe. There was a faint scent like cinnamon, oil, and old books . . . it was uniquely Pidge, while her enthusiasm was almost contagious. He laughed with her, even as he felt Keith come close to him and put a hand upon his shoulder.

“Shiro,” said Keith, “I’m so glad you’re back!”

He nearly let loose a tear, as he saw how bright Keith smiled. It was rare for the younger man to show any emotion, at least beyond ‘anger’ or ‘boredom’, as he was so afraid of showing vulnerability before other people, and he knew also how difficult it could be for Keith to process his emotions. This was a man like a younger brother to him. Shiro threw caution to the wind, as he grabbed Keith about the shoulders and yanked him close, and – together – the three Paladins stayed in a warm hug and laughed together in camaraderie.

Hunk came over with slow and steady movements, but kept his hands clasped behind his neck, even as he smiled with teeth on show and dark skin flushed with happiness on seeing their friend so alive and well. Lance and Coran kept a little distance, but were no means less excited to see him and both managed to give him a slap on the back with a smile. Allura was the very last one to come over to him, whereupon she embraced him with great warmth.

“I am so relieved to see you safe,” she said.

It felt good to hold her against him. Allura warm so warm and her clothes so soft to the touch, and it reminded him of life back home or even in the castle, where he was able to be around people and simply enjoy their company. It was when Allura pulled away that he noticed a strange expression on Keith’s face; the smile was still there, but it was pulled up at one corner and his eyes refused to look in their direction, and Shiro realise it was a mixture of pride and envy. Shiro reached out and squeezed Keith’s shoulder with great affection.

“Is everything okay, Keith?”

“He’s just jealous,” muttered Lance.

There was a somewhat conspicuous elbow to Lance’s ribs, dealt by Coran who wore the most innocent expression in the world and afterwards made a show of ‘stretching’, until Lance turned to face him with a visible pout and hunched over in frustration. The two were an exceptionally close pair of friends, able to trust one another fully and even willing to sacrifice themselves for the other’s sake, and just seeing such loyalty made Shiro feel like he had finally returned home. This was where he was meant to be. This was home.

Shiro glanced over to Sendak, whose eyes were cast at the edge of the clearing, and it was strange to see him on the perimeter without any reaction to the reunion. It was possible that he was unused to affection or friendship. Shiro could not recall the Galra ever being a social man, or displaying any sign that he might have a strong friend circle, and – despite everything – Shiro felt a spark of pity for him. He looked away when he heard Lance say:

“Hey, it’s not my fault they’re dating!”

“Huh? Really?” Shiro blinked away his surprise. “Well, I guess a lot’s happened since we were all scattered through the wormholes, but this is certainly one of the more pleasant surprises. I’m happy for you both. I wish you both the best of happiness.”

“We – We haven’t discussed what’s going on yet,” muttered Keith.

“Yes, we are still in the early stages,” added Allura.

It was good to see the two happy, although clear there was a long way to go before they could be called ‘serious’ by any means, and – as Shiro thought about their situation – it made sense they would cling to one another and grow to love one another. He simply hoped that Allura’s long lifespan wouldn’t be too much of an issue, or that their technology could perhaps advance Keith’s in turn, assuming they were serious in the long run.

The suns were both high, enough that the trees cast long shadows, and Shiro felt a few beads of sweat upon his forehead, which he wiped away with the back of his hand. Pidge and Lance talked at length between themselves. Keith and Allura both blushed, but both angled their bodies away from one another – as if they could somehow fool the others into thinking themselves not a couple – even as their eyes kept sending somewhat conspicuous glances to each other. Hunk clearer his throat, as he broke apart the casual familiarity with:

“Er, guys, shouldn’t we be addressing the Galra in the room?”

Thace walked over to the small group, before he fell to his knee and bowed. It was an ultimate mark of respect and aimed at Allura, while he kept one hand upon his chest and his eyes locked upon her, and Allura stood before him and looked down with a genuine smile, as she kept her hands clasped before her. The other Paladins kept their eyes locked upon Sendak and the two guards now either side of him, but Shiro saw how he avoided looking back at them with an arrogant smirk. Thace stood before Shiro could confront Sendak.

“Sendak is no threat, we promise you,” said Thace.

“Dude, the guy tried to kill us!” Lance exclaimed. “Like, I’m not saying we should be worried, but . . . shouldn’t we be worried? Zarkon nearly destroyed us, but here we are with one of his deadliest minions, and – well – I’m kind of questioning why.”

“Because I asked Thace for permission to bring him with us,” answered Shiro. “Sendak is in a difficult situation; we can’t trust him with sensitive information regarding our mission to defeat Zarkon, but he can’t return to the Galra Empire without putting his life at risk. He’s lost and he’s vulnerable. I think – I think he can redeem himself. We just need to give him a chance to learn what it means to be a part of a team, to be a part of something good.”

Allura stepped closer to him; the princess angled her body to block Sendak from sight, which also kept Shiro and Thace from his sight in turn, and it provided a physical barrier between the two groups of people. The dark skin to her cheeks paled, while her lips pressed into a tight line and her eyes focussed upon his face, and – as he watched her for a long and awkward moment – he saw strength in her that was enviable. It was no wonder that she was drawn to Keith, as both were determined and passionate people.

“Shiro, you must understand our reticence,” whispered Allura.

“I’m not saying we should automatically forgive him.” Shiro flexed his hand before him. “I just think we need to aim to be better than Zarkon, which means giving him the choice and chance to become a better person. He could have killed Keith, but he didn’t. He could have killed Pidge, but he didn’t. He even kept me alive during my captivity –”

“Yeah, but he also gave you a Galra arm and a scar,” snapped Pidge.

“I know that the situation isn’t ideal, just like I’m not claiming he’s a good guy, but I think there’s potential there . . . if there isn’t, at least we can say we gave him a chance and the choice was his alone to make. We can restrict his access to certain areas of the castle, keep surveillance on him at all times, and I’ll even take full responsibility. I don’t even mind playing guard and sharing quarters with him. To leave him here is to leave him to die.”

There was a slight look of shame on Pidge’s expression; Shiro always admired her passion and fierce loyalty, so he understood well the doubt she felt on accepting a known enemy into their fold, but she also understood what it meant to be a defender of the universe. He knew she would stand up and defend Sendak, because – ultimately – she was a good person. There were a lot of vocal objections from Keith, who grew quite heated, but Allura and Coran remained relatively calm, while Hunk and Lance talked between themselves.

“If anything were to go wrong,” said Allura, “it would doom us all.”

“It won’t, I swear it,” replied Shiro. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Keith looked on the verge of breaking, as he stormed away towards the castle. Allura raised a hand to her lips, as she tried to hide her concern, but ultimately looked down at the ground with a saddened expression and gave a small sigh. It would take some time to convince Keith that this was the right choice to be made, while – in the meantime – Shiro simply prayed that Sendak didn’t make a fool of him and prove him wrong to give him any trust.

The air felt cold, while – as Shiro turned to look at Sendak – he felt those eyes locked upon him and observing with a cold expression, almost impossible to read and virtually impossible to predict, and Shiro could only give him a nod of acknowledgement. Sendak moved his head almost imperceptibly, as he blinked away what was apparent surprise.

“You won’t regret this,” promised Shiro.

 

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

“How are you holding up?”

Shiro forced a smile upon his face. It was difficult to look sincere, especially as the fear was so deep-rooted, but he managed to quirk his lips in a manner that looked convincing, as his grey eyes crinkled at the corners, and placed a hand upon Sendak’s arm. He knew the touch must have felt strange; Shiro had long since donned his armour, relishing in how good it felt to be in familiar and clean clothes, and his gloved fingers were firm upon the furred limb.

The room within the castle was one of the largest in memory; Shiro knew that there were few appropriate places for a meeting with Thace, at least those that could accommodate the array of maps and data and all the Paladins, but somehow it almost overwhelmed him. Sendak and Shiro stood at the far end of the table, where the Galra man stood with eyes locked down upon the papers scattered out before him, and – as those eyes skimmed the maps with rapid movement – Shiro noticed the tension to his shoulders and muscles.

“Your concern for me is touching,” said Sendak.

Sendak reached out to a map upon the table, while the movement jostled Shiro’s hand away from him and caused it to hang midair in a rather embarrassing manner, and he turned the page sharply enough that the paper gave a hiss of sound as it scraped upon the metal surface. It was a gesture that garnered attention from the others. Thace shot his head upright, as he sat at the far end of the table opposite them at some great distance, and his eyes narrowed even as he leaned forward upon his forearm. The Resistance guards near him aimed their weapons.

There was no response from Sendak, as if he were unaware of the fact he was under total surveillance and distrusted by the Resistance, but his clawed finger remained pressed against the page with a quirked eyebrow and half-smile. Allura and Coran sat on either side of Thace, opposite one another, as both strove to ignore him with surreptitious glances, but the four remaining Paladins sat centre of the table and were more obvious in their observations.

“I know what it’s like to not belong,” chanced Shiro.

“So I am to feel as you would feel?” Sendak gave a small scoff. “That is the kind of solipsism I would expect from a Galra, not from a human. In any case, your pity is unnecessary, but – regardless – somewhat amusing. Do you expect gratitude for your enquiry?”

Sendak gave a small smirk. It was clear he did not take Shiro seriously, but there was also nothing malicious in his amusement. There were a few sparked memories of near companionable silence between them, where Sendak would summon him just to observe him or tease him, and Shiro felt a spark of conflict, unwilling to forgive Sendak simply for a few kind moments and unwilling to hold his wrongs against him for eternity. Sendak eventually gave a long exhale of breath, as his claw tapped the paper in a rhythm.

“This map is out of date,” said Sendak.

“It is the best that we have,” replied Thace in a loud voice. “The Central Command System is prone to constant change, so as to avoid infiltration and attack, and – no doubt since we have dealt considerable damage to them – they will have likely made changes to their security. They already changed the drones patrol schedule after Shiro’s release, but now -?”

“Now you must adapt your plan according to those changes. This corridor here –” Sendak used his claw to tear a line in the map “– no longer exists. They instead created a corridor over here to accommodate the change, purposely done to confuse those like yourself.”

“I see, something that only a commander would know?” Thace raised a hand to his chin and rubbed small circles in thought. “In that case, we will avoid both corridors completely, as we cannot be certain whether you lie or tell the truth. It is safer this way. I agree with Princess Allura and Shiro that we must attack soon, as it will be least suspected, but we need to co-ordinate this perfectly in order to avoid the troubles we last faced.”

Shiro looked to the Paladins. Hunk hunched over the table with a frown, while Lance sat opposite him and sent glances over to Coran, as if the older Altean could reassure him without a single word. It appeared that was the case. Coran gave an emotional smile, with just a hint of sadness in his eyes, which caused Lance to smile in turn and look away with just a hint of embarrassment. In the meantime, Pidge and Keith moved to stand and squat between Allura and Thace, where they opened a portable computer and examined the screen.

“What will the Resistance do,” asked Keith, “while we attack?”

There was a momentary silence, broken only by the tapping of Sendak’s claws. Thace said nothing, as he clasped his hands before his lips and looked down at the table, and – as he considered his next words – Keith placed a hand upon Allura’s shoulder, in a way that made Shiro smile upon the sight. Keith and Thace shared an expression, one of stoicism and pensiveness, and it only added to the overall tension of the room.

“We will be elsewhere,” said Thace.

“Ah, out of sight, out of mind,” teased Sendak.

“Our motivation is _not_ cowardice.” Thace glared down the long table. “We need to rally troops in areas under the Voltron Alliance, so that we are ready to defend the people should the remaining commanders and soldiers attack in their fallen leader’s name, and we also must form troops to defend Earth. Zarkon plans to colonise Earth next.”

Shiro stumbled where he stood. He caught onto Sendak’s arm for balance, letting his fingers twist and pull at that soft fur for some sort of comfort, and yet the older Galra gave little indication of discomfort or concern, aside from a side-glance and a frown. There was a lot of loud and rambling questions from Hunk, while Lance and Keith spoke over one another, and Shiro – as he felt Pidge’s eyes upon him – began to struggle to breathe.

They knew it was only a matter of time before Earth was next, but to hear in clear words that it would be next was enough to cause great anxiety in Shiro. He saw Keith look over to him, ready to walk over and provide some comfort, but Allura was at once on her feet with a nervous smile and a hand upon his chest. It was enough to keep Keith in place, while Sendak made a noise that was almost like a purr, and Shiro – despite himself – felt momentarily comforted, as he drew in a deep breath and let go of Sendak’s arm.

Allura let her hand fall from Keith, before she turned to Coran and Thace, and – as she clasped her hands before her lap – she bowed to them as a mark of respect. Coran took the hint quite quickly, as he stood in turn and smiled to Thace and pointed a hand over to the doors behind them, making sure to keep his movements slow and graceful, so as not to cause alarm or seem disrespectful. Thace soon stood in turn.

“May we talk privately, Thace?” Allura asked.

“Of course, Princess Allura,” said Thace.

The three of them left at once. The two Resistance guards followed; one of them came close to Shiro as he passed, close enough that he could reach out and place a hand upon his shoulder, and – as Shiro looked to him in confusion – the older man leaned in and whispered to contact him should Sendak hurt or threaten him again. It was a kind reassurance, enough that Shiro smiled as the man kept his eyes on them even as he walked away, and soon they were both out of sight, leaving behind the five Paladins and the ex-commander.

“Okay, so . . . what now?” Hunk asked.

“We form Voltron and take out Zarkon, duh!” Lance flexed his bicep and grinned. “If we stop him before he gets to Earth, we’ll be saving the Resistance a job! You heard them, right? If we send Keith and Shiro in to hack the system, we can get information on the rest of the Empire, enough to pick off all the hardcore extremists and leftover –”

“Leftover _what_?” Pidge asked. “If we take out Zarkon, chances are that most the Empire will fall overnight . . . seems like most people only follow him out of fear. We should let the Resistance pick off the last Empire members; we should save the prisoners . . .”

“Like, I don’t think anyone’s saying we _shouldn’t_ save the prisoners,” said Hunk, “but – well – we kind of need to defeat Zarkon first, right? I mean, picking off the leftover followers of Zarkon is important, too, but we kind of need to defeat Zarkon _first_ , else all of this is a totally moot point. I think we need to plan our attack. If you, me and Lance act as a distraction, we can send Keith in first to hack the system. It could help us find your family, too.”

“Hmm,” interrupted Sendak. “I suppose it could also find Keith’s, in turn.”

The Paladins stopped in their discussion. Shiro saw the anger on Pidge’s expression; her pale cheeks were flushed red, while her brown eyes narrowed into dark slits, and Shiro knew her passion and dedication to her family trumped all else. There was no reaction from Sendak, who merely made adjustments to the maps before him, as if he had said nothing no more offensive than a comment upon the weather, but the smirk to his lips betrayed his amusement at the situation. There was a long hiss of breath from Pidge, as she stood to her feet.

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?” Pidge asked.

“Do you mean you don’t know?”

“No mind games, Sendak,” warned Shiro.

“Ah, very well, I shall be direct then,” said Sendak. “The Resistance are very adept at reconnaissance, and rumour has it that a certain piece of surveillance footage reveals a change to your friend’s skin, while his fighting style -? Well, it is familiar to say the least. I wonder how long one can deny their Galra heritage. Interesting.”

Keith looked upon the verge of breaking point. He flinched away from the others, who now all stood close to one another in camaraderie, and he brought his hand to his arm and allowed his fingers to wrap around the limb in a defensive manner. All eyes were upon Sendak, who glanced up with mock innocence and let his hand wave in the air as if in question, before he looked directly to Keith and allowed his smirk to widen. Shiro felt his heart race, as anxiety began to kick in and fear struck strong regarding the brewing storm.

“You’re a liar, Sendak,” spat Keith.

“I can see why you would be hurt,” said Sendak. “Your friends think you a monster, much like every other Galra they have killed or dismissed. If you are sent to retrieve and hack data, why don’t you search our databases for evidence of my words? You will see.”

There was no response from Keith. He simply turned around and marched out of the room, despite Lance’s cries for him to remain patient and stay put, and soon the door was slammed shut behind him with a loud slam that echoed about the room. Hunk slouched his shoulders and gave a long-suffered sigh, while Lance groaned and held his hands behind his head with a pout, and Pidge – ever graceful and observant – simply stared after Keith in thought. Shiro said nothing, but he knew somewhere instinctually that Sendak was correct.

“That was pretty brutal, dude,” said Hunk.

“He’s obviously lying,” muttered Lance. “He’s the bad guy!”

“I don’t know,” answered Pidge in a quiet voice. “Did you notice the looks Thace sent Keith? It was almost like he saw something that we didn’t, while Keith did say that his skin looked – well – purple when it was burned. Maybe we should look into it?”

“Yeah, that’s a fair point. Let’s go somewhere to talk about it.”

“Somewhere away from _him_ , you mean?”

They all turned to look at Sendak, who – true to form – gave a rather human wave. It rankled them visibly, so that Hunk winced and took a step back, while Pidge’s lips curled in absolute disgust. It seemed that Sendak was on the verge of laughter, but the other Paladins failed to recognise the humour in him and instead took great offence. Shiro gave a sigh.

“Ah, I shall miss you dearly,” said Sendak.

There was no response this time. Hunk and Lance turned to walk together toward the doors, with Lance’s hands in his pockets and Hunk’s hands behind his neck, and together they muttered complaints and exchanged quiet concerned – only Pidge lingered. The young woman looked with critical eyes to Sendak, before her gaze fell upon Shiro with an almost equally critical expression, and he could almost physically feel her eyes upon his scar. It caused him to give an audible intake of breath, as he almost imperceptibly flinched.

“Are you coming, Shiro?” Pidge asked.

“I think I’ll stay here for a while,” said Shiro. “You go on ahead.”

Pidge bit her lip, before she gave a nod and ran after her friends. There was no slam of the door this time, rather a gently closing as it slid shut, and Shiro – as he felt a bubbling mixture of fury and fear – turned to face Sendak directly with narrowed eyes. The Galra man gave a sigh and turned to face him in turn, so that both stood with a mere few inches between them, as Shiro craned his neck to look upward and felt Sendak lean into his personal space. He could almost feel the warm and moist breath of the other man, as he asked:

“Why do you do that?”

“In this circumstance, words are my only weapon,” said Sendak.

“Do you even need a weapon?” Shiro gave a long sigh. “You don’t need to hurt others, at least not here and not with us, and if you’re right – if Keith really is part Galra – tormenting him will only cause more harm than good. I know you enjoy inflicting pain, but –”

“If you do not enjoy me hurting your friends, there is always an alternative.”

“If I thought I could trust you, I might just allow for that.”

Sendak gave a loud laugh. It was enough to almost allow Shiro to smile in turn, except the memories of their past were too vivid and too real to easily forget, and the racing of his heart was almost unbearable against his chest. They remained so close to one another, neither one willing to break the strange silence between them, until Shiro gave an unconscious blush and pulled away, as he busied himself by collecting the maps together in a small pile. He nearly knocked over the pitcher of water that lay on the tabletop . . .

. . . _Shiro drank greedily from the metal cup._

_It was cold in his hands, but the water was clean and refreshed him. He relished in the feeling of liquid in his dry mouth, soothing lips chapped and split open, and he no longer minded the chill down his chest and coating his stomach with every swallow. Each time the cup ran empty, Sendak would refill it with a warning to take it slow. Shiro had vomited clear water on one occasion, after which he took the warning to heart and went slow._

_The cell was dirty and smelled rich of blood and iron, but Sendak simply squatted by the door and rested his arms upon his knees with an expression of curious confusion. Shiro wondered what pity or contempt he felt upon the sight of him. It was a struggle to sit up, as Shiro heaved a desperate gasp for breath and placed the empty cup beside him, until he collapsed backward and fell upon the straw ‘mattress’. He hissed in pain as the slices across his back screamed in protest at having any pressure applied to them._

_‘Only_ I _am allowed to beat you, Champion,’ said Sendak._

_Shiro gave a dark laugh. It hurt too much to sit upright, while he knew pretending to ‘forget’ the name and face of the guards in question would only provoke Sendak into further rage, but to confess a name would be to damn the guards in question to a beating or worse. He refused to be the cause of another’s death. Shiro simply tried to block out the pain through meditation and concentration, as Sendak gave a ‘purr’ that sounded like a threat._

_‘They have no right to deny you water.’_

_‘I have no rights,’ whispered Shiro. ‘You made that clear.’_

_‘Still, you are my property and I treat my property well.’ Sendak gave a long hiss of breath. ‘You will get full rations restored to you effective as immediately, while any future beatings or whippings shall be dealt solely by me. They abused you no further, I assume?’_

_‘That kind of abuse is rarer than you think. Most guards always get caught.’_

_‘That does not answer my question, Champion.’_

_Shiro sat upright, as he let his eyes look to Sendak. He could not tell whether Sendak was concerned out of sheer empathy, unwilling to see another man violated, or whether it was simply the concern of a man unwilling to share his toys and wanting no other to touch his belongings without explicit consent. Shiro struggled to focus his eyes, too tired and dehydrated to concentrate, too broken and exhausted to care._

_‘No, there was no sexual assault.’_

_Sendak gave a small nod. It was difficult to read him, but he did reach out to the huge pitcher beside him to refill Shiro’s cup, and – with so many emotions and in so much pain – he was almost willing to invoke the wrath of the Galra by throwing the water in his face. Shiro fought every urge to commit violence and forced himself to calm down._

_‘You know I’ve had my fill of water,’ said Shiro in a quiet voice._

_‘Drink up,’ said Sendak. ‘You need strength . . .’_

. . . Shiro let his hand linger on the paper. He pulled away and brought the cybernetic arm upward, where he gazed at his hand and moved the fingers in thought, as if by simple observation he could somehow make the arm human again. There was a movement beside him, as Sendak shuffled the papers surprisingly well into a perfectly neat pile, despite only having one arm, and – with a flourish – presented them to Shiro to take.

“Maybe one day, you shall trust me,” said Sendak.

“First things first: Zarkon.”

 


	12. Chapter 12

“Hold on tight, Sendak.”

Shiro angled the Black Lion’s descent; it was a steep incline, so much so that Shiro was thrown back against his seat and rendered immobile, while the force struck him and left him nearly breathless with the sudden blow to his body. There was a tight grip around his collarbone and upper chest, as Sendak – struggling find purchase with one hand – gripped around him in something close to an ‘embrace’ for the only stability he could find.

It was disconcerting to have Sendak’s arm around him. He was reminded too much of the times spent pressed against the cell floor, while other memories of being held back by the guards flooded his mind, and he was forced to remind himself that it was necessary lest Sendak be thrown about the Lion like a rag doll. The breath against his neck was heavy and moist, while the fur tickled against his skin and acted as a minor distraction, and Shiro struggled to hold back the panic as he continued the controlled nose-dive.

He drew in a deep breath, as the stars glowed bright around them. The Command Ship loomed dark in the distance, bordered with hundreds – if not thousands – of smaller ships whose aim was locked upon the other Lions, and the waves of beams shot about flashed into his vision and temporarily blinded him to his position. He needed to rely on the bond between himself and the Black Lion. He needed to focus and reach their goal.

‘ _Yo, Earth to Shiro –’_

 _‘Hunk, I think you mean “Space to Shiro”,’_ said Lance.

 _‘You know what, Lance? Good luck with that tongue lashing from Coran when we get back.’_ Hunk paused to let Pidge finish her laughter, while Lance screamed for someone to elaborate on what was so funny. _‘Anyway, we’re all in position, Shiro_!’

Shiro pulled up at the last minute and breathed deep in relief. Pidge, Hunk and Lance were far ahead of the Command Ship; they formed an almost perfect triangle, as they attacked swiftly and dodged skilfully, and they provided a vital distraction for Shiro and Keith to use their respective Lions to sneak up from behind. He landed on the Command Ship exactly in place, where he could be hidden by protruding features and – according to the maps – gain entry not far from the main communications room. The Lion responded relatively well.

He felt Sendak let go with a huff of air, which struck his cheek in an awkward manner. The Galra stood straight and stepped away, until he was left with enough space to flex his remaining limb, and Shiro – with room to breathe and think – focussed his mind on connecting with his Lion and relished in the sensation of the bond. He sensed Keith land not far from him, before he saw him through the windows and knew him to be safe.

“Keith and I are in place,” said Shiro.

‘ _Ah, excellent_ ,’ said Coran. _‘Allura and I will remain hidden behind the nearby planet we passed, ready to get the wormhole started and step in at any sign of trouble; Pidge, Hunk and Lance will act as a diversion and keep Galra forces occupied, which should give you time to get in and lure Zarkon out into the open. Remember, the computer records are_ second _to luring Zarkon out to where Voltron can finally destroy him. First things first!’_

“Alright, we’re going to make entry now.” Shiro climbed from his seat. “Keith will look for the computer records, while Sendak and I lure Zarkon out of the Command Ship and into the open. I’m going to need Pidge to act as lookout, while Lance and Hunk get ready to intervene as soon as you see any trouble. Is everyone ready to go?”

 _‘We sure are!’_ Lance chirped. _‘Let’s go, Lions!’_

Shiro gave a smile despite himself, as he adjusted his helmet and watched as the Lion opened its mouth onto the ship below. The air was cold as ice, enough to remind him that they were in the depths of space, and – as he looked down below – he felt momentarily light-headed at the idea of being in Galra territory once more. He could practically feel the chains on his neck, as well as the cuts to his wrists, and the laughter of the soldiers already echoed in his mind with great volume. He struggled to breathe, as he stepped forward.

“Stay close, Sendak,” commanded Shiro.

He walked out onto the Command Ship and cursed his uniform. The white was too conspicuous upon the black, and – no matter how tall the protrusions of metal were – it would only be a matter of time before one of the enemies saw them. Keith was still on his Lion, but Shiro heard a muttered promise to soon be out, as he felt Sendak run and duck down beside him, with fingers pressed against the metal and feet poised to pounce.

Shiro drilled a hole into the metal, allowing for entry, but the laser attached to the sleeve of his suit took time to pierce through the material. He didn’t look up as Keith finally came beside him. There was no way that he could break his concentration, even as the younger man muttered complaints about Sendak and made promises to gain a copy of the records they needed or at least place a device for Coran to hack, and – as he spoke – there came a popping noise as the round metal finally broke and fell through. Shiro smiled and said:

“Okay, this is it.”

* * *

Keith dropped into the corridor.

Shiro and Sendak stood a few feet away from him; there was a clear element of concern to both of them, albeit for very different reasons, and he saw the way Shiro’s hands clenched around his weapon with a deceptive level of strength. The way he pressed himself against the wall was a clear tell something was wrong, but Shiro appeared to fight through his anxiety and began to count silently with closed eyes. Keith watched in morbid curiosity.

The corridor was oddly cold, while the black and purple décor reminded him of his last ‘visit’, and Keith couldn’t help but worry that his mentor and brother-figure was standing so close to one of the enemy, who – if Keith were honest – looked almost as afraid as they both felt in turn. Sendak stood tall beside Shiro, casting a light shadow over him, while his body language was tense and taut, as if he were ready to spring upon them at a second’s notice. It was enough to cause Keith to bite his lip in concern and survey the area.

He held onto the corner of the wall, as he leaned outward. There was no one in sight, which led credence to Sendak and Thace’s assertion that this part of the ship would be free from Galra officers, and yet he could make out a faint shadow at the far end, almost out of sight and yet still slightly visible. Keith looked in both directions, this time fully aware of which direction he would need to run, but he stopped when he heard Shiro say:

“Three, two, one.”

Keith barely had time to jump back. He pressed himself against the corridor wall, as several drones began to walk their way from the left, and – as he looked around in a momentary panic – Shiro dragged him forcefully into a small alcove. Keith was held tightly against a muscled chest, while arms wrapped around him with such force that he struggled to breathe, and opposite them there came a growl from the other alcove. Shiro gave a hiss in warning, which silenced Sendak and allowed them to listen to the drones’ movement.

They waited until the footsteps died away, before they exited the alcove. The look on Sendak’s face was best described as a scowl, with yellow eyes aimed at Keith, while his remaining hand flexed and clenched into a fist. Shiro walked with long and slow movements to the end of the corridor, where he checked both ways, and then returned between the two men with a slow nod of acknowledgement. Keith crossed his arms in thought.

“How’d you know where they’d be?” Keith asked.

“I heard them stop and pause at the end of the corridor parallel to us,” said Shiro. “Thace said that they changed the _rotation_ of the patrols in this area, but kept the timing of the patrols the same. I just counted down the way I did when I made my initial escape.”

Shiro gave a smile that caused his scar to crinkle. It was easy to see that there was some sincerity there, but it was also a mask for deeper anxiety and distrust, and – with every glance about the corridors and to Sendak – it was clear he hated being back in the ship. Sendak moved almost imperceptibly, so that he stood behind Shiro, but his very presence irked Keith more than he could possibly express. It was easy to resent Shiro’s trust in their enemy, but there was no time to question him further. Shiro continued:

“Do you have the plan memorised?”

“I copy the computer files over to this disc,” said Keith with hand on pocket. “If I can’t do that, I use the device Coran gave me and place it somewhere hidden onto the computer. He will hack it from the castle. In exactly twenty minutes, we meet back here and leave to meet back with the others, regardless of what we might find. Is that all, Shiro?”

“That should be all,” replied Shiro. “Sendak and I will lure out Zarkon; we have an incendiary device, which we can use to draw attention to a part of the ship, at which point we’ll head straight back for the Lion and join you in forming Voltron.”

“Will you be okay alone with Sendak? Do you need me?”

“We’ll be fine. We need to get going, though.”

Keith gave another look to Sendak. The Galra man looked nothing like either of them, while every inch of fur just spoke to how alien he was in nature, and Keith swallowed hard at the realisation he could be just like Sendak. He shook his head, too afraid about what that would mean for his character and for his relationship with Allura, before he forced a smile to his lips and reached out to touch Shiro’s arm. This time he caught a sound from Sendak, almost like a purr, and – for some instinctual reason – it rankled him like a threat.

“Right,” muttered Keith.

He let go of Shiro, where he noticed how the sound stopped. It was time to move about their respective missions; Keith ran with great speed along the corridor, as he listened to the men behind him head in the opposite direction, and he strove to time his movements as Shiro had done. It was difficult, especially when he lost concentration in his determination to achieve his goal, but he managed to make his way to the control rooms with ease. He noticed that the room was unguarded, but the ship was under attack and so resources would be spread thin.

The control panel sat square in front of the doors. Keith felt physically sick, as he raised his hand to unlock the doors, because the truth was that only Galra could access and control the locking mechanisms, and so his hand began to feel like it belonged to another. He felt his hand shake somewhat, until he forced it against the panel and quickly entered the room, just in time to avoid the oncoming footsteps that came from another corridor.

He locked the door behind him.

The room itself was small beyond comprehension, with a small computer set afar, and – as Keith ran to it with best intentions in mind – he realised that the large black box held no screen and no apparent keypad. He ran his hands over the surface, desperate to find a way to hack the system and copy it over to the disc in pocket, but there was no way that he could find to do anything of the sort. He felt a momentary envy for Pidge’s skills, as his hand slipped into his pocket and instead removed the device of Coran’s instead.

“It’s up to you Coran,” he muttered.

He gave a long sigh, as he unfolded the device. It was small and circular, roughly the size of his palm, and – as he pressed the centre – four ‘legs’ popped out from its edges, which dug into the metal when pressed against its surface. There was a glow from the centre, which came and went in a rhythmic motion, and Keith smiled when he heard Coran call back that everything was fine and the information was being sent.

“Great, then it’s time to get going,” said Keith.

He ran back to the Lion.

* * *

“Sendak! Get down!”

Shiro ran for Sendak, before he dove upon him. He knocked Sendak flat against the ground, where the Galra man groaned and looked up with a furious expression, but Shiro – as he lay flush against him – ignored the expression at sat upright. It was oddly comfortable astride Sendak, but the fast-paced weapon discharge from opposite them left little room for confronting his changing emotions. Shiro simply aimed back and fired.

There was a series of small explosions, as the drones at the end of the hall broke apart, and Shiro – as he climbed rapidly to his feet – reached down and grabbed Sendak by his outreached hand, before he pulled him into a nearby room. It looked like they found themselves in the storage room near to the sleeping quarters, which was the perfect location to plant the bomb that felt heavy in his pockets, but it would take time to find somewhere to place it without it being spotted by casual eyes. Shiro turned to lock the door.

“They will do a cursory search of this room,” warned Sendak.

Shiro looked about. There was boxes scattered all around, with some piled higher than the tallest Galra guards, and ‘walls’ of boxes were placed almost like a labyrinth, so that there were multiple places to hide and be hid in turn. Shiro lifted several away, so as to hide the device within the lowest box of mixed screws and bolts, before replacing those on top and turning to work out their best escape plan. Sendak gave a low purr and narrowed his eyes.

“We are in danger here, Shiro,” snapped Sendak.

“We just need to retrace our steps,” said Shiro. “They will expect us to make an attack for Zarkon, while they shouldn’t know our entry point. No one saw us come in here, so we should have time to pause for breath and gather our thoughts. Be patient.”

“Patience wears thin when our lives are at risk.”

“I swear we’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

Shiro knew that Sendak was right; he could feel his heart race in his chest, while his anxiety began to grow to nearly uncontrollable levels, and he knew that any level of panic would reduce their chances of escape. He looked to Sendak, who foraged through the boxes in search of a weapon, before he unlocked the door and looked about the corridor on either side, where he saw no one and no surveillance objects in sight. Shiro swallowed back his nervousness, although he smiled in absolute relief.

“Okay, the coast is clear,” said Shiro.

Sendak gave a grunt in response, as he struggled to pull on a piece of chest armour with just one arm, and – as he walked over to Shiro – it was noteworthy how he had purposely dressed in the Galra uniform, mostly for camouflage and protection. It suited him well, but memories flooded Shiro and threatened to overwhelm him . . . _laughter from the guards, the sweat down his back, and the feel of his opponent’s blood fresh upon his hands_ . . . Shiro shook the thoughts from his head, as they headed into the corridor and quickly darted along.

They moved with fast movements, keeping as close to the wall as possible, and paused only at various turns to check in case of being followed, but – as they moved to turn left and into their original starting position – there came the sound of a drone sounding to halt. Shiro barely found time to turn around when the sound of a gun was fired and a flash of light blinded him to his surroundings. A furred body shoved him hard.

Shiro fell painfully upon the floor.

He struggled to look up, but caught the blurred image of a drone aiming for him. Shiro took aim and shot in response, where the drone exploded with a flurry of metal, and – as Shiro crawled onto all fours to sit upright – he saw the blood on the floor beside him. The nausea rose up inside his chest. Sendak lay prone against the wall, where the initial blast struck him just beneath his armour and caused a great gash upon his stomach, but there was no time to drag him to the Lion and to a healing pod. The wound looked dangerous.

“Sendak? Sendak! Are you okay?”

There was little response, aside from a low groan. Shiro noticed that Sendak’s hand was pressed against the wound, which was thankfully not bleeding too much, but he needed immediate medical assistance. Shiro began to hyperventilate, as tears pricked the corners of his eyes, and – as he felt panic strike – he dragged Sendak into the nearest alcove, where he positioned him into a sitting position and made sure he was tucked out of sight.

“I – I need to do something,” whispered Shiro. “The quintessence!”

He pressed a hand to Sendak’s forehead; it was clammy and warm, while the man groaned at the touch, and Shiro knew time was of the essence. Shiro climbed to his feet, feeling unsteady and somewhat light-headed, before he stepped back into the main corridor and looked both ways. The quintessence was some distance away, but close enough to still provide a chance.

“Stay strong, Sendak. I’ll be back.”


	13. Chapter 13

 

“How are we doing?”

Allura held her hands clasped before her chest. It felt far too warm, even dressed in her white uniform with her hair pinned high upon her head, and every moment of silence from the Paladins was more than she could endure. There was little to see from the main windows; the planet before them provided an excellent camouflage, but it blocked much of the action from view and forced them to rely on trust alone. It cast them in shadow.

There was a long hiss of breath from Coran; his gloved fingers rapidly tapped along the control panel, while he focussed on the large holographic screens before them, and – as he typed – images of the Lions came into focus. Allura gave a smile despite herself, as she saw Keith crawling through the man-made hole upon the main ship. He looked a little dishevelled, as well as mildly panicked, but he moved with fast and graceful movements and ran into the mouth of his Lion and out of sight. He was okay, which was beyond a relief.

“Well, I’m not making _bad_ progress,” said Coran.

Allura leaned closer to him, where she saw how he strove to hack into the Galra mainframe, and various images of maps and blueprints flashed into view upon the smaller screen attached to the control panel itself. There seemed enough to make life easier for the Resistance, but nothing that resembled what they did not already know. Allura gave a small sigh, as she raised her closed hand to her mouth and let her finger touch upon her lip. There was a series of beeps and various clicks from Coran, followed by a high-pitched alarm.

Coran gave a visible flinch. There was nothing of concern on the large screens projected upon the windows, as the Paladins seemed to avoid oncoming attacks with ease, and the smaller screen attached to the control panel only listed various names in the Galra language. It was strange to see that their systems would find such a list a concern, until Allura gave a loud gasp and pulled back with her hands covering her mouth. Coran sagged his shoulders.

“Is that Keith’s name?” Allura asked.

“I’m afraid so, Princess,” said Coran. “I – er – recognise that we already suspected his Galra heritage, but this does feel a _wee_ bit more than we anticipated. If we get out of this alive, I feel this is something we must tell our Keith . . . Thace, too, although he may already know.”

“I will alert him the moment he returns to us, I swear.”

“I just hope he takes it well,” whispered Coran.

Allura glanced away to the larger screens. There was no sign of Keith, as the camera were located primarily upon the Lions and not the Paladins, but she saw the way the Red Lion moved and darted with great speed and aggression through enemy ships. The Galra instinct was clear, enough that it was difficult to believe Allura had assumed his personality quirks to be merely a divergence from what was neurologically typical, and – as she observed his movements – it was clear there was also a Galra influence at play.

“He will be loved no matter his race,” said Allura.

Coran gave a warm smile in response.

* * *

The room was large beyond all belief.

Shiro froze within the doorway, as he observed the vast amount of quintessence. There were hundreds – if not thousands – of large jars of the substance stored on four shelves that encircled the entire room, with each shelf being taller than an average person. The yellow glows from each jar were almost beautiful, plus they also provided a contrast with the black-and-purple scheme of the room’s Galra décor, but they would not be easily removed.

Shiro drew in a deep breath; he remembered well pieces of information from Sendak, most of which was taken from snippets of conversation he overheard in captivity, and he knew – if such words could be trusted – that the yellow jars were unrefined and could be refined through the podium centre of the room. The fast beating of his heart was almost too much to bear, while he began to grow light-headed and afraid, but he pushed past his anxiety in his desperation to save the man to whom he owed his life. Shiro made his way to the podium.

It was difficult to understand how to activate the machines.

He placed his organic hand to the protruding piece of metal, but there was no response and the coldness only brought him closer to the horrific memories of his past locked within Galra cells and Sendak’s rooms. Shiro removed his hand with a shudder. It took him a long breath to form the courage to place his Galra arm to the podium, at which point there blasted forth a spherical orange light and a mechanical lever came over him and the light, and – as he looked up to the lever – he realised a liquid was being poured forth inside the sphere.

“Please,” whispered Shiro. “Please be the refinement process.”

The sphere gradually changed hue into a deep purple shade, while the liquid appeared to be contained within a cylindrical jar much like the larger ones on the shelves, but this was something Shiro could easily carry within his arms. He nearly sagged in relief at the sight of the quintessence, now refined and filled to the brim of the jar, and – as the machine grew to a stop and the spherical light died away – Shiro laughed despite himself, as he ran to the jar and held it underneath his organic arm. It was far lighter than he expected.

He quickly darted back to the main doors; it took a moment to check that the coast was clear, which required him to pause out of sight when a drone made its patrol, but he soon darted along the corridor and made his way back to Sendak. It was difficult to maintain balance while holding the quintessence, but time was limited and he used every last ounce of energy to push himself beyond his limit. He only stalled when he heard a drone’s voice:

‘ _Stop, Prisoner 117-9875, do not move.’_

Shiro looked behind to see a gun aimed upon him. He dove forward just at the right moment, as he cradled the quintessence to his chest and braced himself using his limbs, and – in his controlled dive – he rolled and pulled himself back upon his feet. There was a sharp pain in his shoulder. The drone must have shot just as he fell forward, which caused a large gash to appear on his shoulder-blade and blood to pour down over the left side of his back.

There was the sound of an alarm, which caused a rush of panic. Shiro aimed back and shot the drone directly in its headpiece, causing it to topple backward with a sizzle of exposed electronics, and Shiro – as he continued to run forward – cursed his luck and prepared to shoot any Galra or drone on sight. Every footstep was heavy and hard, uneven due to the pain and injuries accrued, and he grew exhausted beyond all endurance. There was a burning sensation to his muscles, as well as a deep ache to his joints. It was too much.

‘ _Prisoner 117-9875, you will stop or be stopped.’_

Shiro took a sharp corner and ran to Sendak. The alcove was blocked from casual glances, so one could only see it by standing directly before it, and – as he got ever and ever closer – he feared the worst and tears began to form. They stung his eyes and hazed his vision, but he continued to run until his legs gave way just before the alcove. He collapsed without much grace, the pain through his body too much to bear, but he saved the quintessence from being crushed with a quick forward thrust of his arms. Then he heard a laugh . . .

He looked up to see that Sendak was still alive, albeit barely and greatly injured. The Galra man looked sweaty and broken, so that his fur gave off a ‘wet dog’ smell and was matted together in places, while his breathing was laboured and his chest heaved with heavy movements with total exertion. Shiro laughed alongside him, as relief overwhelmed him, before he crawled over to Sendak and unscrewed the lid to the quintessence.

“Thank God you’re alive,” he whispered.

Shiro took the jar and carefully poured it over the wound. There was a loud cry from Sendak, which forced Shiro to cover his mouth with a clammy hand, and the Galra groaned loudly against the soft flesh with a great deal of pain. It was frightening at first. Shiro had no idea whether the quintessence would work against an otherwise mortal wound, but he could soon see the skin begin to knit together in an eerie manner, until there was no sign that any injury had ever existed. The skin was purple and bald, but pure and unharmed.

There was a moment of absolute silence, until Sendak gave a desperate and large gasp for air that sent his body hurtling forward. He bent in half, as he heaved in deep breaths until he found some stability, and – as he looked up at Shiro with wide eyes – Shiro felt tears fall from his eyes with sheer disbelief. He had to fight every urge to embrace him, but he did slowly stand and gestured for Sendak to stand in turn. Sendak groaned as he moved.

“You saved me, Shiro,” he mumbled.

“You saved me first,” said Shiro. “Thank you.”

“I see you are also injured.”

Shiro felt the pain upon his back. He tried to turn to look better upon the injury, only to stumble and be caught by Sendak, and – as he pulled back – he realised that the bleeding had finally stopped. The pain was immense, but worse was the sticky sensation of his cold clothing clinging to his skin, as he made any kind of subtle movement. Sendak placed a strong hand upon his healthy shoulder and gave a squeeze of reassurance.

“I could disinfect that for you,” offered Sendak . . .

. . . _‘I won’t let you, Sendak.’_

_There was a sudden silence about the room. Sendak gave a typical ‘smile’; it showed his canines in a threatening display, while the abrupt purr made his chest vibrate, and he stepped ever closer with slow and steady movements. The wounds from the battle were worn proud by Shiro, who – unlike with the loss of his arm – knew that any immediate medical attention was unnecessary, as well as provided an unfair advantage over his opponents._

_Sendak grabbed him by his shoulders and spun him around, before Shiro was thrown against the wall and pressed against it by a forearm upon his back. There was a sound of prisoner clothing being ripped, as his back was exposed and the brown skin felt a cold chill, and the four parallel cuts were fully exposed for any eyes to see. Shiro attempted to struggle, before he heard the warning sound from Sendak grow ever louder, before a hand encircled his neck in absolute warning and forced Shiro into total stillness. He froze on command._

_‘It is the healthiest course of action,’ said Sendak._

_‘It’s – It’s disgusting! I refuse.’_

_‘Mates often clean one another’s wounds using the tongue.’ Sendak huffed a loud breath. ‘The saliva acts as a natural disinfectant, while the act itself is said to promote bonding and intimacy between the pair. This will allow you to heal in thrice the time.’_

_A tear rolled down Shiro’s cheek; the idea of Sendak touching in him in such a manner, even for such a clinical and practical purpose, made him feel violated beyond all proportions. He thought back to past lovers, about how they would respect his limitations and refusals, and he remembered how – even in his worst moments – they would never act with force. Shiro lowered his head until his forehead touched upon the cool wall, as he swallowed hard and tried to imagine himself anywhere else in the universe. He uttered one last time:_

_‘I refuse. I would rather heal naturally.’_

_Sendak tightened his grip upon Shiro’s neck, even as his forearm pulled away from his back, and the prolonged pressure continued until Shiro struggled to breathe. Just as he thought he would faint from the lack of air, the firm grip was removed and Shiro slid onto the floor in a broken heap, where he gasped for breath and hunched over in shame. Sendak spat:_

_‘I hope the prolonged pain will be punishment enough’ . . ._

_. . ._ Shiro gave a long exhale of breath.

The idea of being treated by Sendak was less repulsive than before, enough that it could even be called ‘tempting’ in his weak frame of mind, but there was no time to treat his wound – whether by traditional means or Galra means – and instead he would need to endure. He looked to Sendak and saw an expression difficult to read, but one filled with compassion and relief, as his smile avoided the display of teeth or the predatory growl.

“I may take you up on that offer later,” said Shiro.

There as a huge roar of activity from behind them. Shiro turned and saw half-a-dozen drones all directly behind an unknown Galra commander, and – as he strove to maintain his composure – he saw the smirk that the commander wore. They were effectively cornered, unless they clung to the alcoves and made this into a shoot-out, and Shiro knew that he couldn’t risk losing Sendak after fighting so hard to save him.

Shiro was poised to surrender when came a familiar sight. There was a rip of metal as the wall between Shiro and the commander wrenched away, and – as the various drones and men cried out in fear – Shiro realised that the Black Lion had returned to him. The jaws of the Lion were aimed at Shiro, as if they were attempting to swallow the hallway whole, with one touching the floor and one touching the ceiling, and Shiro saw their opening. He grabbed Sendak by the arm and ran toward the Lion’s mouth in one last attempt at freedom.

The mouth closed soon after them, while the Lion ripped off away from the ship. Shiro dropped into the pilot chair with a heavy groan of pain, before he took the controls and strove to rejoin his team in order to fulfil their mission. Sendak rested his hand upon the back of the chair, too wary of disturbing the wound on Shiro’s shoulder, while they took off with great speed towards where Pidge and Lance were last spotted defending their position.

“It looks like the Lion has chosen a new master,” mused Sendak.

“How? I thought –”

“You risked your life to save another.” Sendak gave a low growl. “If we assume that the Lion abides by the foolish sentimentality of your people, perhaps that was enough to earn its respect. I will begrudgingly admit it was enough to win mine.”

Shiro fought back a blush as he said with a smile:

“Okay, let’s go form Voltron!”


	14. Chapter 14

‘ _Ready, team? Let’s form Voltron!’_

Allura listened to Shiro from the castle. There was an edge to his voice, as if somewhat broken and pained, but there was also a great confidence that revealed him as the natural leader that the group so needed. The four other Paladins chirped in with various sounds of agreement, while Coran – as he heard Lance – softened considerably and gave a smile that caused Allura to smile in turn, and together they held hope for a better future.

The screens before the two Alteans revealed the five Paladins; each one coming together in a beautiful display of teamwork, before four of the screens went blank and only the ‘eyes’ of Voltron were displayed. Zarkon could be seen from the billowing smoke of an explosion, having been lured out by the incendiary device, and – with Bayard in hand – he stood in a manner that exuded sheer intimidation. There was a wave of his cape behind him, while he stood in a manner like one ready to pounce, and his armour shone even in the darkness.

There was a flash of light from Voltron’s sword, before it charged forward with great ease and grace toward the evil emperor. The two great entities began to clash at once, as the flurry of blades became so frenzied that they were soon indistinguishable, and Zarkon let loose a loud cry of rage before his Bayard turned into a long-reaching whip. It caught the leg of the Yellow Lion and caused Voltron to tumble onto its back with a crash. Allura let out a gasp.

“We must get in there and lend our support,” commanded Allura.

The whip came down upon Voltron, who – with great communication between its corresponding parts – rolled to the left and jumped to deliver a fierce kick to Zarkon’s chest, which sent him hurtling back and knocked him upon his feet. There was a loud cheer from Lance that echoed about the castle room, making Allura curse how the communicator devices were located so close to the mouths within the suits, and she looked to Coran with a raised eyebrow and amused smile. He gave an embarrassed grin in return, before he replied:

“There are too many ships, Princess Allura.”

“Then we will take out the enemy ships.” Allura stepped forward. “They will be unable to provide assistance to Zarkon, giving a small reprieve to the Paladins, and their defeat will help allow Voltron to escape once the time is right. We owe them our help.”

Coran looked out to Voltron, as his smile faded with concern. It was difficult for the Paladins to give sole focus to Zarkon, at least when so many of his men surrounded them and aimed their weapons upon them, and Voltron was forced to multi-task in a desperate manner. Coran bit his lip, before he quickly typed in a variety of commands, and – with quick and graceful movements – the castle moved from behind the planet and into the line of fire.

“You’re right,” said Coran.

The shields were raised at once, but a few blasts from enemy ships slipped past them. It jolted the castle, causing an array of outages on the lower floors, but ultimately the shields were raised in time to defend themselves from oncoming attacks. Allura took the controls and began to aim at enemy ships, taking out several who proved a threat to their defences before taking out those that threatened the safety of Voltron. It was difficult to multi-task in such a manner, but even more so when the fight upon the screens waged onward.

‘ _Princess_ ,’ called Shiro, _‘what are you doing?’_

“Helping,” said Allura in a firm voice.

The screens revealed that Zarkon and Voltron were evenly matched, until Voltron was thrown back across the ship and landed upon its front. Allura struggled to maintain her focus. There was no bearing the thought that their last hope could be erased, but her very survival – the survival of the last of the Alteans – was also on the line, and she owed it to her father to fight until the very last breath and to fight with utmost dignity. Coran maintained control of the shields, as Allura drew in a deep breath and fought away tears.

Allura avoided looking at the screen, even as the sight of Zarkon came and towered over Voltron, and – as she aimed at the remaining ships all around – there was a sense of absolute dread within the pit of her stomach. It weighed her down and made her nauseous. The tears began to sting and blur her vision, while her hands shook visibly upon the controls, and every instinct told her to run and take a wormhole to safety. Allura resolved herself to fight.

The screens then gave a flash of life.

Coran froze in his control of the shields, just enough that a stray blast came through, and Allura looked upward to see the cause of his distraction. There – covering the entirety of the screens – was the image of Zarkon. It was intimidating and darkened the room, as his eyes narrowed with sheer venom upon Voltron, but there was also a vast light of the familiar sword through his chest, along with the sight of blood that slowly dripped down and onto ship below his feet. It was eerie to believe that things could be over. It felt unreal.

“I – I think it’s over,” whispered Coran. “We’re free.”

There was a sudden movement of the sword. It tore upward in a way that left no doubt as to the death of Zarkon, as Allura forced her head to the side and scrunched closed her eyes, and – as Coran closed the monitors – Shiro called out that the Paladins would return soon. They left the shields up, but Allura let her hands fall away from the weapon controls, until she could bring herself to look out of the windows once again to the scene beyond.

The sight of the Lions caused her to shed a tear in relief, as her hands came to her mouth and covered the audible gasp that escaped her lips. Coran lowered the shields, which allowed Keith to enter the castle before anyone else, and – as he called over the communicators that he was fine and uninjured – Allura began to cry in earnest. There was something so overwhelming about finally reaching the end of an evil empire, but also something so devastating that her father had never seen the end to such dark times. She felt his loss.

Coran placed a hand upon her shoulder. It was a comforting touch, but it was also firm and trembled in an almost perceptible manner, and – as she caught the sniff and twitch of his moustache – Allura realised he was just as overcome with emotion as herself. Allura reached up a hand in turn and held onto his with great affection, as they watched the other Lions come through the shield and the shield be brought back for extra protection.

“Your father would be proud of you,” said Coran.

Allura knew he was right.

* * *

“Your friends will miss you.”

Shiro looked over to Sendak, as the Galra man rid himself of the armour. He appeared to think nothing of shedding the uniform accumulated upon the ship, even as he stood centre of Shiro’s room and struggled with the human body-suit given to him on arrival by Coran, and it was difficult to fight back a small blush at being so close in proximity to the older man while he changed outfits. The Galra were too practical to bother with the concept of ‘modesty’.

There was a great deal of noise from within the corridor. Pidge and Hunk wanted nothing except for food and comfort, as they crashed in the recreation room with Allura, and he could hear their laughter and shared stories even from such a distance. Keith and Lance argued endlessly about something or other from the doorway of Lance’s rooms, while Coran ran back and forth to check upon everyone, and Shiro knew he would have to face the crowds eventually and prove to the others he was safe. No one trusted Sendak.

“I just need a moment to process things,” admitted Shiro.

Sendak rolled his eyes, apparently not noticing the mirror before him. It was enough for Shiro to shake his head with a smile, as he sat upon the bed behind the Galra, but every movement of every muscle caused him a spark of pain. The gashes along his back would reopen occasionally in odd places, while the fabric of his clothing clung to him in an uncomfortable manner, and he gave a long hiss of discomfort, as he ripped the left over cloth from his body and exposed a variety of scars upon his torso to Sendak.

There was an awkward moment of silence, as Sendak paused where he stood, before he caught sight of Shiro in the mirror and turned to face him . . . _the stench of blood, Sendak towered above him, and the fear of ensuing violence_ . . . the panic began to set in, brought on by past associations, but this time there was no oncoming attack. Sendak simply stood there, as he cocked his head to the side in curious observation, and let Shiro calm down.

The panic attack was mild this time. Shiro remembered well the promise not to harm him without permission, along with the way that Sendak was willing to risk his life to save him, and he could see the concern in those yellow eyes. Sendak made to reach out, before his arm froze in midair and pulled back with a hum of consideration, and Shiro – against his better judgement – reached out to take that hand in his. There was no great deal of intimacy, as Shiro simply held the hand and traced the pads of the fingers with slight affections, before he massaged at the palm and used the moment between them to process his thoughts.

“You said that Galra mates treat each other’s wounds,” said Shiro.

There was a low exhale of breath from Sendak. He pulled his hand away, before he signalled for Shiro to turn around with a nonchalant spin of his finger, and Shiro – feeling the race of his heart somewhat different to the times before – obeyed the command. Shiro sat cross-legged upon the bed, where he faced the wall and tried to fight away the nervousness, as Sendak knelt down beside him with a groan of pain and frustration, which reminded Shiro of the wounds his mate faced in turn. There was no immediate touch.

“It is the most efficient method of healing,” said Sendak.

“Would you rather I use the healing pods?”

“No, but I would rather this be your choice, not mine.”

Shiro looked over his shoulder, where he saw Sendak in a more complete manner. The scar on Sendak’s eye marked him as belonging to another, while the fur – mussed and bloody – made it clear they were fresh from battle, and Shiro made a mental note to tend to Sendak in turn once everything was settled. There was time for celebration in the morning, but Shiro wanted nothing more than to spend time alone now the war was over.

“I trust you enough to keep to the cuts,” said Shiro.

“Would I honestly go any further?”

Shiro laughed despite himself.

 


	15. Chapter 15

# Chapter Fifteen

Shiro looked over the Balmera.

It was a beautiful sight; the sun was low that morning, casting long shadows across its surface, and its people – like so many people – were in the midst of celebrations. Shiro heard the native music, played mainly on drums and similar instruments, and he heard as the native population laughed and cheered and made vast speeches. The main city was alive unlike it had ever been under Zarkon’s rule, with market stalls and homes set out by the mines.

They built both within the mines and above the ground, so that the older generation – too afraid of the sun, too used to enclosed spaces – would have the choice of where to reside, and even many of Shay’s age chose to continue living below. The mines were still their major source of income and industry, but now the respect could be given and a balance maintained, while the people held choice over whether to mine or pursue other careers. Shiro found their fashion a fascination, while Sendak took great interest in their storytellers.

The celebrations never seemed to stop.

There had been drinking throughout the night, with more risqué entertainment for some of the adults, with dawn bringing children’s games and street-food and new songs, and Shiro suspected this would continue for days as the war came to is natural end. He sat at the entrance to the castle dressed in his Paladin uniform, while Sendak walked about dressed in a black body-suit and armoured boots, and yet the Galra man refused to venture too far, as the lingering hostility and blatant discrimination was still high against him.

“It is strange,” said Sendak, “for a Galra to be unsafe to walk alone.”

Shiro bit back a sharp retort. The memories of various propositions and physical abuse was still heavy in his mind, as memories of his imprisonment still haunted him, and – as much as there was a growing mutual respect between them – he still felt a small spark of enjoyment that Sendak would finally know how it felt to be alienated and alone. It was a petty thought, quickly swept away when he saw how Sendak looked across to a small group of children playing with a ball, and he saw a genuine affection and curious interest.

“It will change in time,” said Shiro.

“Is that so?” Sendak gave a scoff. “Your idea of a Voltron Alliance is noble, but it will take time to fully dissolve the Galra Empire that will cling to the ideals of its deceased emperor. It will be a long and thankless task. You _have_ just made a martyr of the man that they once freely followed, while freshly revolutionised people may not wish to fall under a new leader.”

“We aren’t seeking to replaced one dictator with another.” Shiro stood and stretched. “We just want to create ties between planets, rules so that history will never be repeated, and let the people govern themselves without outside interference. That’s all.”

“Oh, is that all? A new tyrant will rise from the ashes of the last.”

“I never pegged you as such the cynic, Sendak.”

Shiro walked over to his partner and placed a hand upon him. He touched the shoulder of Sendak with great affection and respect; the fur was soft underneath his fingers, enough that it reminded Shiro of a few stolen touches and made him curious about the rest of his partner’s body, and the skin underneath felt exceptionally smooth. Sendak appeared reassured by the gesture, although he still remained tense and glared at those natives who would let their gazes linger too long upon him. The natives would often scurry away from him.

In the distance, Shiro saw Hunk with what looked like Shay. The two of them laughed together, with Hunk occasionally letting his head fall low with nervous embarrassment, while they blushed and teased one another, and it was clearly in those perfect early stages where every moment was spent in awe or with a fluttering heart. Shiro laughed under his breath, as he leaned against Sendak and pointed across to the two by a food stall.

“That is what we fought for,” said Shiro in a soft voice.

Sendak gave a hum of mild interest, as he followed Shiro’s gaze. It was clear that Hunk and Shay were unaware of being watched, but – even if they had – Shiro suspected nothing would matter to them except that very moment between them. They were finally able to walk freely on the surface, get to know each other as people, and maybe make a serious relationship from one that would otherwise have been forbidden. It was enough to almost bring a tear to Shiro’s eye, as he realised that everything they sacrificed was for a worthy cause.

“Do you know about a flower called a ‘poppy’?” Shiro asked.

“I have a feeling you will tell me anyway.”

“Well,” said Shiro with a laugh, “it’s a flower that grows no matter the adversity. On Earth, we once had wars that we thought would never end . . . millions died, while entire towns were decimated to rubble, and yet – despite it all – the poppies grew on the desolate fields and brought life to what was once something hideous. There will always be hope.”

“It is too early to assume it safe to hope.” Sendak flexed his hand. “I know that your friend – Pidge, I believe – wishes to rescue her father and brother, but what if they are already dead? It could easily be a fruitless mission, as you and I both know.”

“Pidge will have our absolute support, Sendak. I plan to go with her to find them; I know that Matt would still be alive, as he’s smart and a hard-worker, but I’m not naïve and I know how easy it is to die in that place. If the worst comes to the worst, we’ll at least have closure and Pidge will be able to live knowing the truth. Thace is prepared to send some of his men with us, and I owe it to those I left behind to save them. I owe them to at least try.”

Sendak turned to take Shiro’s chin in hand, as he gently raised his head upward. It was difficult to look anywhere else except upon Sendak, even as he looked across in an attempt to keep his friends in view, but soon he let his eyes fall upon the yellow ones of his partner, where he saw a concern unlike anything he imagined possible. There was a low purr from Sendak, one that spoke of a warning, and yet – now that their relationship was one of equals – it was impossible for Sendak to outright refuse him. Shiro smiled despite himself.

“You are a foolishly good man,” said Sendak.

They simply looked at each other for a long while, until Sendak reached down to press a kiss to Shiro’s lips. It was an oddly chaste gesture. There was a momentary linger, as both men debated whether to go any further, but it was still so early in their relationship that even the smallest of intimacies felt like the greatest of achievements. Shiro felt himself blush around his scar, until they parted by the slightest of inches, and he felt the warm breath of Sendak upon his lips. There simply stood looking upon each other, until Sendak asked:

“What about the other planets?”

“Keith and Allura will be heading the lead with those,” said Shiro. “Thace is also going to lead the Resistance in helping to decolonise those planets still under Galra control, but it will take time and take a lot of resources. I’m also worried about Keith; he isn’t dealing with being part-Galra very well, but when he works out his full parentage -?”

“Then he will have your friendship and Allura’s love to guide him through it.” Shiro blinked in surprised until Sendak snarled and snapped: “You can consider that my concession to your sentimentality. I suppose it is the duty of a mate to comfort his partner.”

“You don’t have to pretend that you don’t care. It’s okay to care.”

“That sounds like something your friends would say.”

Shiro laughed at Sendak’s blatant honesty. He looked around and saw that Pidge was sharing food to some of the poorer children, who – while loved and provided with all they needed – were otherwise unable to partake in things considered ‘luxuries’, and they thanked her profusely as they sat together and ate the sweets freely given. Hunk and Shay had stolen away somewhere below ground, likely to have a romantic evening alone, and Lance -?

Lance was with Coran far away from the party, where the two sat upon an array of large rocks and talked with a great deal of intimacy, and Shiro suspected that Coran would eventually leave with Lance back to Earth, so that Lance would never be without his family again. It was possible that Coran would find a new family there in turn, especially if their budding relationship turned into something serious, and Shiro smiled when Coran placed a hand upon Lance’s knee with a great deal of affection. It was a beautiful sight.

“Things will not stay this peaceful for long,” said Sendak.

Shiro gave a sad smile as he turned to look at his partner; Sendak looked out across the crowds with the same curious expression that Shiro wore, obviously fascinated by how quickly things could return to normal, and obviously concerned that this was just the start of an inevitable separation. Lance would want to return to Earth, while Hunk would want to stay with Shay, and Pidge would want to find her family, and Keith was yet to be determined as he came to terms with a new identity and a new place in the universe.

There was a warm breeze from afar, which caused Shiro to lean back his head and look up at the bright sky with a gentle smile. It was true that this was just the beginning; there was much to do in order to defeat the remnants of the Galra Empire, while there were still those prisoners that needed to be freed, and – through it all – their relationships were only just beginning and all of them were changing as people. Shiro turned to Sendak and said:

“Let’s just enjoy it while it lasts.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do apologise for the ending seeming a little rushed . . .
> 
> This was my first Voltron fic, so I had massive plans and little experience in the fandom. I didn't realise what my strengths and weaknesses would be, and - despite getting good advice to start with one-shots, lol - I chose to throw myself in at the deep end . . . I'm not too great at mecha fights, for one thing ;)
> 
> Bright side, I learnt a lot about what I *am* good at, so I have a Corance fic up and a Shendak fic ready to post at Christmas, which I'm admittedly rather proud about :) There's a list of other fics in the works, too. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for your feedback throughout! I really appreciate your support! :D


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